Heartless: Entering Night
by pottersweetie
Summary: Rosalie's journey as a newborn vampire: Coming to terms with her new existence, seeking revenge on the men who ended her human life, meeting a man she loves, and finding peace with herself and her new world. Part 2 of Heartless.
1. Burning Alive

Heartless  
By: pottersweetie

**Author's Note:** This is the second installment of the whole story that is _Heartless,_ all in Rosalie's point of view. Thanks for checking it out- especially those of you who stuck with me through the first part! I hope you all like it. Enjoy, Read, Review!

**Part Two  
Entering Night**

* * *

**Chapter One  
Burning Alive  
April 20, 1934 - April 21, 1934**

* * *

I had thought I was dying- really, truly slipping from this world- because what else could have possibly explained the fact that I was flying through the air at such a frighteningly impossible speed? And the pain was so intense throughout my body that I didn't even really register the fact that someone- Dr. Cullen, I forgot- was holding me in his arms. All I knew was the stinging cold and the pain- the pain that Royce and his friends had inflicted upon me in hopes of making a point about their positions of control- in hopes of ending my life- and it filled up all of my brain. It filled all of _me_ with a horror that consumed every inch of my consciousness- so much so that it pulled me in and out of delirium.

_But_, I then realized, _if I'm dying, why isn't the pain going away- why won't the hurt and shame and all the feelings of blackness and despair just leave?  
_  
I cried out in the darkness then, my eyes shut tight against the blurred world speeding past me.

"Please," a deep, soothing and worried voice said. "I'm going to help you- I'm going to try my hardest to help you."

I couldn't really focus on his words though, and their meaning was lost within the unfolding chaos of my brain. And then I was aware that the world was slowing down, that I was suddenly inside again, and the world was bright and warm around me. Relief didn't come with this realization though, because my body was still throbbing, shaking violently from shock and exhaustion and pain, and I allowed myself to slip into semi-unconsciousness.

How long that unconsciousness lasted, I'm not certain. It could have been seconds or minutes, or even hours. All I knew during that time was the strange pieces of my world that floated in and out of my brain- images and ideas that I had no control in conjuring. I thought of Lewis Carroll's Alice, falling down the rabbit hole, of rainy days and pools of silk and lace. I thought of Warren, Vera's cousin and the first boy I ever liked- my first kiss- and I thought of his murder in the streets of New York. In a detached way, I thought of my wedding dress, of how beautiful and ethereal I looked in it- like an angel. I envisioned boxes and boxes of beautiful custom-made shoes- of fur stoles and silken gloves in pastel colors. I saw flowers and sunshine and a white house atop a hill in the mountains- summer houses in Italy and penthouses in Paris. And I found myself slipping away even further- the pain dulling and my mind growing still as the images vanished, my heart no longer thumping erratically, but pumping in slow, stuttering beats.

I was grateful that things were growing darker- so relieved to be away from the pain and the shame. But then, just when I thought I was finally dying, something sharp was cutting at my throat and my wrists, and it jolted me back into consciousness.

My eyes snapped open and I saw Dr. Cullen hovering over me, and I screamed, thinking he had only taken me from the street to inflict even more pain on me.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice choked by emotion upon witnessing my reaction. "I'm so sorry."

I wanted to move- to get up, to get away from this man who had _also_ hurt me, fight against this turn of events, twist away from what was happening- but my body was exhausted and in so much pain, that all I could do was writhe on my back, powerless.

And then, a strange warmth was spreading from my neck, wrists, and ankles, spreading up and down and around, fighting away the bitter chill that had clenched by body only moments before. But it wasn't a comfortable warmth- not like immersing yourself in a hot bath on a winter's night, or slipping under a quilt in the dark- this warmth had an underlying bite to it, and I barely recognized the fact that I was squirming around- twisting my torso as much as my wounded body would allow, trying to get away from it.

"Please," Dr. Cullen said, his voice echoing in the recesses of my preoccupied brain. "I'm sorry."

I groaned against the growing malevolence of the warmth, feeling as if my already-raw throat was tearing open with the guttural noise.

"I'm so sorry," the voice said again, as I absently felt ropes being looped around my wrists and ankles, pinning them down, and then another around my waist.

But those ropes entered very little into my brain, because at that moment, I suddenly felt the warmth heating up- growing, growing, worsening, _burning_- until it felt like liquid fire was being pumped through my veins. It felt like being sliced through with flames from the inside, out, and I screamed in agony and terror- wishing for any kind of pain Royce thought he could afflict on me, instead of whatever this was. Then the heat sieged its way to the base of my body, burning through organs and tissue, until it got to my heart, sending it into an angry gallop in my chest. I fought against my binds, wanting to be free so I could claw at my chest and rip out my own heart- such was my ferocity against this pain. But I was held too tightly, the ropes twisting against flesh as I pulled and fought and cried.

"NO!" I screamed, the word finally working its way up my throat. "PLEASE! _STOP_!"

That phantom voice again, said, "Forgive me."

My eyes flew open and everything was tinged red, and I looked around me with wild, unbridled eyes. I was in some kind of bedroom, and standing beside me still, was Dr. Cullen. Though my brain couldn't really acknowledge who he was or why this was happening, I saw him as a possibility. He could stop this pain even if he had also created it.

As I fought against the ropes around me- trying to just get away- I screamed at him, begging, "KILL ME! Just kill me, _please_!"

His face took on a pained look and he shook his head at me sadly, quietly saying, "I can't."

"PLEASE!" I cried, hot tears streaming out of my eyes. "Please- Oh, _God_! It hurts- Please!"

Looking as if he couldn't stand to watch me another minute, he covered his mouth and turned from me, taking a few strides across the room, before turning back to watch me from a longer distance.

Squeezing my eyes shut for a moment, I opened them again and pinned him down with an imploring look. "Please," my voice sounded pitiful as I spoke- from screaming so much- but I couldn't change that. "I'm begging of you."

Slowly, he approached me again, and then knelt down beside me, taking my hand and unclenching the fist I had made, his palm cool and sympathetic against my own hot skin.

"I won't kill you," he said to me, and I just barely heard him above the raggedness of my own breathing. "But I won't leave you either."

I bit back the urge to scream as the heat rose within me- scorching my insides like a spark let loose in a field of dead leaves.

He ran a cool, sweet hand against my forehead, and said, "I'm begging _you_ for forgiveness."

I couldn't respond- didn't even see him or know him any longer- because, just then, the burning heat reached its peak, my eyes rolled up into the back of my head, and I sank gratefully into unconsciousness.

* * *

When I came to again my body was still playing host to the searing fire, and I wasn't sure how much time had passed since I had fallen into the cool darkness of being unaware. I didn't open my eyes- didn't want to see the world tinged in that horrible red again- so I wasn't sure if it was still dark out, or if the sun had risen on my nightmare. Regardless of time or space, I gasped and choked and screamed again- unable to find any other reaction to this blind pain. It was horrifying- how hot the inside of my body could possibly be- and I felt as if it was only getting worse.

"I'm here," the calm, soothing voice of Dr. Cullen said- and I could still feel his cool hand in my own, hardly reacting as I squeezed and squeezed. "You're okay."

"I'm not!" I screamed, forgetting composure- forgetting right and wrong and disapproval. "Everything- Everything _burns_!"

Another hand brushed the hair from my face, and he said, "I know, but it won't be for long- I promise the burning will end."

I fought against my restraints, but it did me no good- neither did screaming, so I finally shut up and lay there, paralyzed by phantom flames, tears slipping out of my closed eyes without permission.

"I want to explain this to you," he said, his voice finding its strength. "I want you to understand what's happening."

Furiously- dismissively- I shook my head.

I didn't want to understand what was happening to me. I just wanted it to end.

"What is happening to you right now isn't necessarily a bad thing," he said, and were I not in agony, I would have laughed at this. "It's a transformation of sorts, and whether it's good or bad.... Well, that's up to you."

Though I was still shaking violently in pain and heat, I grasped what he was saying- I didn't _understand_ it, but my brain took hold of it anyway.

Dr. Cullen sighed the slightest bit as I felt the heat ebbing away almost infinitesimally- only to peak once again, I was sure.

After a beat, he said, "I know it's hard to believe, but this burning is venom working its way through your blood stream- it's becoming a part of you and changing you." I sucked in a breath at this, because the word 'venom' brought on all kinds of frightening images. "The venom comes from my own body- it was the only way I knew to save you."

The fire rose brutally, and I screwed my face up. All I could process was pain- plain, red-hot pain- but some part of my brain wanted to work out what this doctor had just said.

I was burning because of venom- venom from _his_ body? What kind of person had venom in their body? No kind of person, I knew. So how was this possible? Had I misheard him? Was Dr. Cullen out of his mind? The odds were supporting him though, because I felt the burning of this liquid-fire, and I knew it couldn't possibly be from any man-made product. This pain was inhuman. Surreal. Beyond comprehension or acceptance.

"The truth, Miss Hale, is that I'm a vampire- that's where the venom comes from."

I tried twisting away from him- my eyes shut against his face and the room around us- but it was no good.

He continued quickly, saying, "I know it's impossible to believe, but it's the truth. And after the venom has worked its way through your body- when the burning stops- you will be a vampire as well."

I stopped listening to him then. Too many unthinkable things had happened to me in succession, and I wouldn't accept this piece of information as well. The real things, the tangible things that I knew to be brutally real- Royce's betrayal, the way he had beaten me and robbed me, the way he allowed his friends to descend on me like lust-filled dogs- I knew _that_ had happened. The certainty of death, of leaving Vera and my family and everything I had taken for granted- I had known that and felt it and yearned for it to replace the humiliation and pain of lying in the street. Those things were real. They felt like lifetimes ago, but I knew they had happened- were too painful to pretend away. And this pain- this feeling that I was burning alive from the inside- I knew that was real too. But vampires? Mythical, bloodsucking creatures? No. I would not accept that. I would not allow that to factor into the turn of events as well.

So I didn't listen to Dr. Cullen. Instead, I listened to the pain- to the sound of my blood galloping in my brain and rushing through my ears. I focused on lying still- not fighting my restraints or squirming and thrashing away like my instincts told me. And it was easy, because the pain was so all-encompassing that giving into it was more natural than breathing.

I don't know how much time passed, but I remember that I was thinking in broken thoughts amidst the blistering burn, when I peeled my eyes open and stared around the room again, clenching my whole face against pain and fury.

Dr. Cullen was still sitting beside me, his hands around one of my own, and I was faintly aware of the fact that sunlight was peeking through the slats in an outside shutter.

It wasn't ending. The pain wasn't ending, and a lethal panic rose in me as I imagined this eternal agony- an existence made up of a burning I couldn't even understand. And I screamed again- screamed in anger and frustration and fear and absolute hatred.

And Dr. Cullen apologized. With every scream that left my body, he apologized.

* * *

"Carlisle?"

The new voice that entered the room when it was dark again was female- warm and kind and concerned- and it drew closer.

A gasp.

"Carlisle- What- What _happened_?"

The voice I had come to know very well replied, "I found her- on my way home from work." His voice was sad and regretful as he spoke. "I smelled the blood and I couldn't- I couldn't just leave her there."

"We got held back by a couple of hunting parties, and then by the time we got to the edge of town the sun was up and we didn't want to risk being seen," the woman said. "If we had known...."

Dr. Cullen said, "It's all right."

"Did you really _turn_ her?" another voice- a young male's voice, petulant- demanded. "My God, Carlisle."

I snapped my eyes open and searched out the two unfamiliar faces. I didn't care that I had seen them in town before- that they were the elusive Cullens. All I saw was possible relief again. And, since Dr. Cullen wouldn't relieve me, I figured I could ask them.

My voice was raspy as I croaked, "Please!" trying to keep myself under control- even with the searing pain of Hell running through my body. "Please kill me- _Please_!"

"Oh, dear," the woman whispered, running careful fingers over my cheek. "You'll be okay."

"Please," I wheezed. "I just want to die- it hurts so much."

The young man, again, said, "My _God_...."

"Esme," Carlisle said, "could you please clean her up and get rid of the tattered clothes?"

"Of course," the woman said, and then she left my side and exited the room.

I squeezed my eyes shut and clenched my teeth together. It did me no good to scream, but it was so hard to endure the pain- mind-blowingly difficult to not go insane from the intensity of it.

My voice was barely above a whisper when I said, "Please- Why are you doing this to me?"

There was no answer, and I swallowed painfully, sobs tightening my throat and chest.

Within moments, I was faintly aware of the woman- Esme- working over me, washing my filthy, bloodied body with a cool washcloth I could barely feel, easing me out of my ripped blouse and skirt, tidying up my hair. And while she worked- because I couldn't bear to scream so futilely anymore- I listened to the conversation unfolding around me.

"Carlisle, wasn't there another alternative?" the young man asked. "I mean- come on, _Rosalie_ _Hale_?"

He said my name as if it was synonymous with _leprosy_, and it managed to annoy me- even through my pain.

Quietly, the other man said, "I couldn't just let her die there- it was too horrible, too terrible."

There were footsteps, quickly pacing the room.

"I couldn't leave her," the deep voice said, still close by me.

The woman- who was still working over me- reassured him, saying, "Of course you couldn't."

"People die all the time," the young man said, and it made the burning within me that much worse- that I could have died, but _this_ was happening instead. "You could have let her die, Carlisle."

"Edward!" Esme scolded.

He tried to amend his words by saying, "It's just that- It's _Rosalie Hale_! She's nothing if not recognizable. And the Kings will have to put up a huge search for her- not that anyone will suspect the bastard that did it."

"Edward?" Esme said, pausing in her work of redressing me through my restraints.

"You know who is responsible," Dr. Cullen said, and he posed it as a statement rather than a question.

Through what sounded like clenched teeth, Edward said, "Royce. King."

Esme gasped.

"You're certain?"

"Yes," Edward replied, and I managed to find some satisfaction in the fact that he knew who was responsible for my injuries. "It was Royce and his friends."

Carlisle solemnly said, "I suspected as much."

Esme spoke softly to me, saying, "You poor thing."

"Please kill me," I whispered.

"Rosalie _Hale_," Edward said to himself, as if he couldn't believe it.

Carlisle scolded him, simply saying, "Edward."

There was a long stretch of silence, and I thought maybe my fingertips didn't feel so painfully hot anymore. But I wasn't sure.

Breaking the heavy quietness, Edward disgustedly said, "What are we supposed to do with her once she's changed?"

Esme was no longer working over me, and I was suddenly aware that I could focus on other things outside of the pain. The conversation, for instance, and the purple light outside of the room- the promise of another sunrise- and the heat fading from my fingertips.

"The choice will be up to her," Dr. Cullen said. "Maybe she'll stay with us. Perhaps she'll want to lead her own life."

Whether I was actually being transformed into a vampire or not, I knew I couldn't go back to my life. There would be questions, and questions needed answers- answers people would expect me to have. I didn't have answers. I had horrible stories that I never wanted anyone to know. I had wretched feelings that I could never share- not with my parents, not even with Vera- because I didn't want to poison them with the cruelty of it. And, of course, I could have lies. I could tell them all that I was kidnapped by some criminals who had mistaken me for some kind of heiress, and then subsequently let me go. I could save my and Royce's reputations, and those of his friends, and I could sweep it all under the rug. I could go back to my life and smile and pretend like nothing had ever happened.

Except, I knew this couldn't happen. Royce and his friends had thought I was dead. If I showed up and they saw that I wasn't- perfectly intact, if not burning inside- the world would fall apart. Besides, I didn't want to lie and defend their reputations. I wanted them to suffer and endure the horrors I had endured and was still enduring.

So where would I go? What would I do?

I knew only one thing. I didn't want to be alone.

* * *

**Author's Note:** It took me awhile to get this up because I had a difficult time writing it at first, I also had a lot of other things I had to update, and I'm back at school. On top of that, I'm in the process of applying to college, which is tremendously time-consuming and annoying. So thanks for bearing with me. I hope everyone enjoys the second installment of _Heartless_, thanks for reading!


	2. Beautiful, Wild Monster

**Author's Note:** Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed the last chapter! I hope everyone likes this one too! Also, for those of you who are going to see _New Moon_ today, enjoy! I'm definitely looking forward to seeing some Rosalie scenes! I'd love to hear your opinions on the movie in reviews too! Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Two  
Beautiful, Wild Monster  
April 23, 1934**

* * *

The pain of the fire lessened in increments. The tiniest, almost-none-existent increments- from my fingertips and toes- but increments nonetheless. And as it lessened, I felt myself grow stronger. I stopped feeling so weakened and exhausted by pain, and started feeling myself strengthening against it, just in time for it to dissolve, bit by bit, from my body. With that physical strength also came a mental clarity that I had never experienced- I was sure. While the horrific memories I had recently endured were sharp and all too real in my mind, other things were brilliantly real too. I could sense those in the room with me- always Dr. Cullen, frequently Esme, sporadically Edward. I could hear and focus on big things and slight things- could smell and breathe and taste and think, without the brutality of the fire. And it was wonderful.

But, also with the almost-insignificant fading of the heat, came a thirst I had never experienced before. It was like an unforgiving sun over a dessert. Cracked, raw earth. A bone-dry well. Absolute dehydration. The world without water. An unbearable thirst that I could never have even imagined. And as the heat slipped from the ends of my body, it all converged in the center- burning and raging within my chest as my heart picked up so much speed I was sure it was going to burst.

The hand that had been holding mine for days was suddenly pulling out of my clutching grasp. As- by some unknown instinct- I reached out for it as it left, I was made aware of the fact that I was free from my binds- the ones that had been around my ankles, wrists, and waist, but this fiery hurt was pinning me to whatever surface I was lying on.

"Esme! Edward!"

My heart was thumping so quickly that it was like it was becoming one, single beat, and all the awful heat I had endured over those long, agonizing hours, was in that one organ, flaring, rising- too much for me to even comprehend. My body twisted and jerked around- reacted against the brutal war between my heart and the fire in a way I couldn't control.

I was sure I was finally going to die- that this combatance within me was going to end it all. Because how could anyone endure such a violence and come out unscathed?

The heat suddenly rose- hotter than I had ever known it- and I screamed, my heart careening to a final, tripping halt in my chest. One beat. Another. And then, nothing. Nothing but my ragged breathing and the consummate absence of fire and pain.

"It's done," a voice whispered.

I opened my eyes- expecting the angry red I had seen before- and gasped, surprised and unblinking.

The world was crystal clear. So sharpened that it was startling. And I felt like I was truly seeing for the first time- like I had been living in a blur up until that moment. Staring up at the ceiling overhead, I could see every dip and line in the off-white paint- could discern where each stroke and chip had been made, even though it must have been done years ago. And, for a moment, I forgot about the pain and my situation. I was so fascinated by the way I was seeing the world- even if it was just the paint on the ceiling- that I couldn't tear myself away.

That is, I couldn't tear myself away until I grew hungry to see more. So, I turned my head slightly, and I saw a beautiful blonde man, a woman with caramel-colored hair, and a bronze-haired boy. They were all watching me cautiously, and something in me bolted in defense.

"You're okay," the blonde man said. "We're not going to hurt you."

His voice was also defined in my ears- my hearing sharpened as well. Now that I thought about it, I could hear children giggling, a dog sniffing through garbage, a car starting, a gentle wind blowing through the trees outside. But- how was it possible? Had my hearing been so heightened as well? And my sense of smell too, because I could suddenly smell the wood of the floor, the damp grass outside, something warm and deliciously sweet- not nearly as close as I wanted it, making my throat ache horribly- and unfamiliar smells wafting off of the three people standing in the room.

It was like the fire that had been inside me had burned all of my senses to life.

"Are you all right?" the blonde man asked tentatively, and I realized that it was Dr. Cullen, and beside him was his wife, Esme, and her brother Edward. Their faces were suddenly so clear that I hadn't recognized them upon first sight.

Also, I was suddenly made aware of the fact that I was no longer lying on my back. Instead, I was crouched on my feet, arms out defensively, hands curled into claws. My lips were pulled back from my teeth, baring them angrily, and a growl was rising up my throat.

Until I had growled, I wasn't breathing- the sudden vibration of my vocal chords had brought on a rush of air through my body that I felt I didn't even need. But how was it possible for me not to be breathing, I wondered.

This shocked me so much that I was able to come out of my crouch- standing slowly and relaxing my arms.

And when had I jumped up and crouched like that? Why had my instincts told me to be so defensive? Why had I reacted in such an animalistic way? _When_ had I decided to growl?

"Miss Hale?"

"What is this?" I heard myself say, my voice as soft as a whisper- sounding like music to my finely tuned ears. "What's happened to me?"

As I spoke, I looked around the room for the first time. It was a modest bedroom, with wallpaper in muted colors, a dimly lit lamp, a vanity table, a wardrobe, and a bookshelf. Behind me, there was a daybed that was sinking, as if the bottom of it had been broken, with a tattered coverlet over it, and remnants of broken rope around it on the floor.

Dr. Cullen and the woman- Esme- exchanged a look, and then he said, "Why don't we go downstairs to my-"

"I don't understand," I cut across him, my voice loud and angry now. "I was dying- Everything hurt and then there was the burning...." I searched out their eyes pleadingly.

"Miss Hale, please, if you'll follow me-"

I interrupted him again, shouting, "No! Whatever you have to explain to me, you can do it right here!"

The boy with the bronze-colored hair rolled his eyes and relaxed from his guarding stance.

Dr. Cullen glanced at him, then at Esme, and then finally faced me.

"I found you in the street," he said, his voice beautiful and sad. "I smelled the blood and I wanted to help...." He trailed off, waiting for me to react in some way, but I just stared back at him. We didn't need to discuss what had happened to me before I had been burned alive, and I hoped I made that clear with my gaze. "You had been beaten pretty badly- you had a few broken ribs and there was some internal bleeding, a gash in the back of your head-"

"Please," I said shortly, clenching my teeth.

He nodded an understanding. "I knew I couldn't save you- you were too close to the end- so I brought you back here and changed you."

"Changed me," I echoed.

He nodded again. "You're like us now."

"Which _is_?" I spat.

"A vampire, if you want a single term for it," the boy- Edward- said briskly.

I recalled Dr. Cullen telling me about becoming a vampire- about venom- while I was burning, and I knew I had dismissed it earlier, but now- for some reason- I hesitated to scoff.

Speaking again, to Dr. Cullen this time, Edward said, "You'd better explain, Carlisle."

Dr. Cullen watched me for a moment, and then said, "You _are_ a vampire now, Miss Hale."

"What does that _mean_?" I begged, my voice barely above a whisper.

"You drink blood," he said simply. "You don't need food or water or even air to live."

I couldn't find words to respond to this.

"Your senses have been tuned to adhere to your hunting needs, and your body has become impossibly beautiful and indestructible," he explained further, his voice always gentle and sympathetic.

This made me start. "I'm already beautiful."

Edward scoffed.

"Yes," Esme agreed, smiling kindly. "But now, that too, has been enhanced."

I couldn't believe this- thought it was the one silver lining in this mess of smog and horror, but still couldn't wrap my head around it.

"You'll also find that you're inhumanly fast, and remarkably strong."

Me? Strong?

"Yes," Edward spat, annoyed. I looked around, afraid and confused.

I hadn't said that out loud.....

Out of the corner of her mouth, Esme said, "Edward, would you at least wait for her to get used to this idea before you spring your special gifts on her?"

I didn't know what was going on, and what's more, my spinning brain couldn't absorb it on top of everything else.

"So that's it," I said. "I'm a vampire now and I'll have to live my life sleeping in coffins and drinking people's blood?"

The three exchanged a familial look that I didn't appreciate.

"Well, we don't actually sleep in coffins," Esme said, smiling in amusement. "But we do need to stay out of the sun."

Edward testily put in, "And _not_ because we'll burn."

"We'll explain that later," Carlisle said. "The other thing, is that we don't drink human blood."

I knotted my eyebrows and stared at him. "What kind of blood do you drink?"

"Animal."

The idea was no less appealing to me.

"Of course, the decision is entirely up to you," Carlisle told me. "You can stay with us and follow the rules we live by, or you can go and live on your own."

Suddenly, without even thinking about it, I said, "I don't want to be alone."

"Of course you don't, honey," Esme said, and the maternal warmth in her voice and eyes made me want to cry out in anguish. "And we're here to help you- whatever you need."

I nodded with difficulty.

The room was silent for a long moment- the three people watching me- before I realized what I needed their help with.

"My throat...."

"Of course," Dr. Cullen jumped into action. "We'll take you hunting right now."

They all started for the door, but I stopped them, saying, "Could I see- Could I just see a mirror before we go?"

Edward laughed acidically and left the room, but Esme and Carlisle gave me sympathetic and understanding smiles.

Gesturing behind me, Dr. Cullen said, "Take your time. We'll be waiting for you downstairs."

As soon as they left the room, I turned slowly and saw the vanity table against the wall across from me. Set into it's back was a fairly large mirror, and I was angled so that I couldn't see myself in it, and for a moment, I wondered if I would have a reflection at all.

Shaking away any and all insecurities and doubts, I stepped closer to the mirror, my footfalls slow and measured.

I was terrified of what I'd find in that mirror, and it was strange, because looking at my reflection and checking up on my looks had always come second nature to me- had always made me comforted and secure. But now I was so terrified that I wasn't breathing- wasn't even really thinking properly.

And then I took the final step that placed me right in front of the mirror, and I gasped.

I had never doubted my looks before- I always knew I was beautiful and special- but looking at myself in the mirror then, I knew I was more beautiful than I had ever been previously.

My skin was milky white, smooth and unflawed- like porcelain- and it looked like it could be made of finely crushed pearls. Instead of a soft, periwinkle-lilac, my eyes were a fierce blood-red- liquid rubies fanned by long, golden lashes- and they startled me. It looked like I was chiseled from stone or marble, and I felt a detached appreciation for my hard skin. The girl in the mirror was undeniably beautiful, but how could _that_ be me? Her hair was the same waves of shimmering gold, her face mostly the same shape- if not a little sharper- and everything about her looked the same underneath the shell of predatory, inhuman beauty, but it was so unfamiliar that I couldn't connect this face and _me_.

And then I raised my hand and smoothed my hair behind my shoulder- a move that was so natural to me that it snapped everything into place.

The face was mine, and maybe I was a monster like the Cullens were saying, but it was okay because I was absolutely beautiful, and I would always have that.

* * *

We left the house several hours after midnight- when no one would be outside- and stood in the vacant lot of grass surrounding their house, no trace left of the snow that had fallen on me only a few days prior. Carlisle, Esme, and Edward stood in front of me in a half-moon, all looking anxious and solemn all of a sudden, their eyes bearing down on me- as if hoping to keep me pinned to the spot where I stood. I wasn't really bothered by their stares though. People had stared at me my whole life, and besides, I was much too preoccupied with the unbearable dry heat in my throat to worry about how I was being looked at.

"Miss Hale, what we are about to tell you is very important," Dr. Cullen said, but it was hard for me to pay attention with such a strange, furious thirst taking over my thoughts. "You are a newborn vampire, therefore, you don't have the strongest control over your actions just yet."

I snapped my eyes in his direction then, glaring. Was he saying I wasn't capable of keeping myself under control?

"Everyone goes through it when they're young," Esme amended. "It's nothing to be ashamed of."

"This _is_ the case, however, so it's very important that you stay close to at least one of us during the hunt," he said. "In the event that something goes wrong.... It's just best that we don't get separated."

I looked between the three of them. "What could go wrong?"

Edward chuckled sardonically, but no one gave me an answer.

"What could go wrong?" I demanded.

"Your thirst is so strong and your abilities so new and unlearned that- it's possible that- there's a possibility that you could smell a human and...." Esme trailed off.

I laughed.

"You find this _amusing_?" Edward shot at me.

"Yes," I replied. "I would never- eat- a _human_."

Carlisle frowned, saying, "You may feel that way, Miss Hale, but the fact of the matter is that vampire's prefer human blood- above all else."

"That may be true, but I don't prescribe to that belief," I told them, cocksure.

Esme and Carlisle exchanged another look and Edward rolled his eyes.

"Just to be on the safe side," Dr. Cullen said, "we'd feel better if you stayed close."

I dug my nails into my palm, my thirst growing unendurable through all this formality. "I can do that. That's fine."

"Also, you are faster and stronger than any of us," Carlisle said, and this fact surprised me. "So be aware that you need to pace yourself so we all stay on the same track, all right?"

I couldn't comprehend this, but I didn't care, I just needed something for this thirst, so I nodded and looked at them all pleadingly. "Can we go now?" I asked.

Finally, Carlisle nodded, and he said, "Yes, let's go." To Edward, he said, "Keep behind us, all right?"

Annoyed, Edward nodded gruffly and shot me a dirty look.

I didn't even care- I was about to rip something or someone apart if I didn't get rid of the thirst as soon as possible.

That was why I didn't even think when Dr. Cullen and Esme started running, I just followed them. I couldn't comprehend their speed or mine, or the fact that everything was moving around me at an impossible pace, that I was light, ghosting through the forest with ballerina poise. I just _went_, focusing on Carlisle and Esme, always pacing myself enough to keep them in front of me. That's all I made myself think about- keeping behind the two instead of running past them, and the running itself- on the way my body seemed to relax into my movements, my lungs never protesting, my muscles lithe and comfortable. And it kept my mind off of my thirst- for the most part- until Carlisle and Esme finally stopped, herding Edward and me to a halt as well.

"This spot is good," Dr. Cullen said.

I looked around. We were in the woods- on a mountain somewhere- and everything around me was full of vibrant life, distracting me, fascinating me.

"Where are we?" I asked.

Abruptly, Edward replied with, "Canada."

I looked, in shock, to the two adults. Esme nodded. "We're fast," she said.

They were not kidding.

"Are you ready?" Carlisle asked.

I looked around me- seeing and hearing things I had never, ever known before- and I said, "I- I don't know what to do- How does this work?"

"Follow your instincts," Dr. Cullen said. "Look around you, listen, allow your thirst and your senses to guide you."

I did as he told me- looked around and listened with fine-tuned ears to the world around me. There was so much of everything- so many things that were new and strange and distracting- and it was hard for me to focus solely on my thirst. But then I took a deep breath, and my throat ached painfully- hot and dry and unbearable. I could smell a sweet, metallic tang drifting on the breeze, sending a surge of saliva into my mouth- "Venom," they later told me. Breathing deeply again, the scent filled my head, and I could sense the thud-thud of the life in it, the swish of the blood in its body, and I couldn't think anymore. My body propelled me forward without my conscious consent, and I was following my senses- running closer and closer to the rusted sweetness, to the glug-glug of the beating heart that was making me anxious with desire- governed by this necessity I had never known before.

And then I wasn't able to think about anything else but following instincts that took over all of me- drove me, possessed me, ran me through the trees at a speed so great I couldn't see anything until I saw the deer who was permeating the air with the hard aroma that was making me frenzied, and I was on top of her before she could even notice me. There was no conscious thought as I crashed to the ground with her, her angular legs and hooves doing no damage to my body as she struggled. And then my teeth were cutting through her throat and I was draining her dry.

It happened so quickly, and I was still so thirsty by the time the deer was done, that I immediately stood and followed my nose to another, and another, and another. I didn't know where Carlisle, Esme, or Edward were, I didn't know what I was or what I was doing. All I knew was this single-minded hunt and nothing else mattered, so I killed and I drank.

Eventually, my nose brought me to a field, open and bright with the light of the moon, and standing in the middle of the tall grass was a massive, imposing buck. He stared at me as I charged at him on impossible feet, but had no time to flee- to even twitch a muscle in escape- because I was on him in no time, tackling him to the ground, his head thrashing around- hitting me with massive antlers that never hurt me- kicking and twisting like the others. But I was getting good at this after five or six other deer, and I quickly found his neck, bit into it, and drank.

Somewhere between knocking the buck down and sucking the very life out of him, my thirst abated, and I could see clearly. But I didn't see the field around me or the huge, limp animal on my lap. Instead, I saw Royce, knocking my head into a wall until it bled, Royce forcing his lips on my own, Royce unbuttoning his pants, Royce telling me to take it like a lady. And I felt the burning that had come with my rescue- that had prevented my death. And I saw what I was doing now- drinking the blood from an innocent animal, killing and feasting, gorging myself- in ripped, bloody clothes borrowed from Esme. I saw myself for what I was- some kind of impossibly beautiful monster, a wild, feral thing- and I found my chest tightening and my whole world falling in around me.

Bending over the bleeding animal, I screamed- the most guttural and beautiful noise I had ever heard- and I cried without tears.

I don't know how much longer after that Esme, Carlisle, and Edward found me, covered in a dead animal's blood, but when they did come to my aid I didn't respond. I cried into the animal's soiled fur, my sobs hard and brutal, unresponsive and so ashamed I couldn't think straight or breathe. And I wished my face could be soaked in tears- wished I could at least have that release- but I didn't. There was no bottom or top to my anguish, only the endless supply of hurt and longing and hatred and shame, and I was sure it would never be any other way.

I was so disabled by my own thoughts that I wouldn't even get up when the three said we would go home, so Carlisle picked me up and carried me- just like he had when he brought me into this life- and I let the hopelessness wash through me.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Yeah, these first chapters of her vampirehood will not be the happiest. Actually, they'll be really, really sad and depressed and angry and ashamed- just as I suppose Rosalie would have felt- so please keep that in mind. Thanks for reading! Please review!


	3. Luminescence

**Author's Note:** Oy vey. It's been awhile, kids. I tried to write this chapter a hundred different times and a dozen different ways and it wasn't exactly working out. Also, I had a ton of schoolwork and college stuff and then I actually got a job, and when I did have the time there's the fact that I'm lazy.... Anyway, thanks to Caitlin for reading the first draft and telling me to go back and spruce it up. Hope this doesn't rush Rosalie's depression _too much_, but I spoke to several people about Rosalie and they don't think she's the type to wallow and pity herself too much, which I definitely see. Also, Steph Meyer's words on one of the _Twilight_ documentary things was that she always thought that since Rosalie was a vampire she would just do it better than anyone else or something. Anyway, let me know what you guys think!

* * *

**Chapter Three  
Luminescence  
April 24, 1934-May 25, 1934**

* * *

I was lying in the street again, and Royce was inside me, filling my head with the most awful stench, the most horrible sounds, ripping me apart with relish. His friends, like sentinels, stood around us, watching, laughing, waiting their turns. Everything hurt and my brain felt both clogged and empty. My body was broken once more- ribs cracked, wounds leaking blood like water, heart stuttering in absolute horror. And it was all exactly the same as the first time. No one was saving me and there was no hope. All I was sure of, was that I would be taken to burn when it was all over. Absently though, I wondered why I couldn't fight this. If I was some impossibly strong, destructive monster, why couldn't I fight Royce away? Why couldn't I find the strength to destroy him? It made the horror and anger multiply, and I screamed at the top of my voice.

"Rosalie," a voice said. "Rosalie! You're all right- Everything's all right!"

Somehow, I managed to pull myself out of the flashback enough to see Dr. Cullen's wife, Esme, hovering over me, her face beautiful with worry. Behind her, stood Carlisle, looking pained and concerned.

I let out a dry, defeated sob, and she smoothed back my hair as I sank back into the bed I had been deposited on the night before.

"You're safe," she whispered to me, her touch tender against my golden tresses. "You're safe now."

I knew I was physically safe. They had told me I was indestructible, after all. But that wasn't the problem. I still remembered, I was still filled up with memories of Royce- memories that had rushed back to me, rapid-fire, drowning me in hopeless horror and suffocating anxiety all night. It was hard to find a foothold anywhere else. My thirst, the kindness of Carlisle and Esme, Edward's failure to return home with us the night before- they all entered very little into my thoughts following my first hunt. Because all I saw and heard and felt was Royce and betrayal and loss and an eternity of pain that I couldn't foresee an end to.

I sobbed again, and I heard Carlisle take in a sharp breath.

"Oh God, Esme, what have I done?" he whispered.

She looked at him, but didn't falter from running her fingers over and through my hair. "You did what you had to do Carlisle- you saved her."

"She's in agony," he said.

"She's been through a lot," Esme replied softly, looking back at me. "You need to give her time to heal."

Carlisle was about to speak again, but he cut himself off as I tensed in bed, the sound of tires crunching over the dry road outside drawing closer.

"Rosalie?" Esme prompted, but then they both heard it too.

Every nerve in my body stood on end, and I dared not move as Carlisle imperceptibly told Esme to stay with me as he moved out of the room, his wife's eyes following his figure until he closed the door against us.

He waited just outside the room, all of us listening to the sound of the car door opening and slamming shut, sounding like a gunshot in the quiet of the morning. Heavy footsteps walked over the dried grass in the yard to get to the front door, bringing with them the hard stench of human life. And though I had been disabled with grief all night, the smell managed to punch its way through my thoughts, making me grab a fistful of sheet and gasp, holding my breath against it.

Esme put a hand on my shoulder- trying to soothe me further- but I squirmed against it. There was a man outside- right on the porch now- and every fiber of my being was telling me to fly down there and rip him to shreds. But I didn't want to be like this- didn't want to be wild and monstrous- so I fought it.

"Rosalie, you're okay- you'll be okay," she said to me, her voice low and sure, motherly. "Don't breathe."

There wasn't any chance of that, I knew, but I clamped my lips firmly together and pressed my face into the pillow underneath me anyway.

A knock sounded on the front door and Carlisle waited a minute, before moving from his position in the upstairs hall to walk downstairs at a human speed. He opened the front door after an antagonizingly long second and I listened without being able to stop myself- Esme's hand still on my shoulder, reassuring me.

"Officer," he said, his voice sounding genuinely surprised.

"Good morning, Doctor Cullen," the officer said. "I'm sorry to disturb you so early in the day."

Sounding as if he hadn't a care in the world- which I now know must have been difficult, considering how pained he had been at my agony moments ago- Carlisle said, "That's all right, officer. What can I do for you?"

"I'm actually here to ask you if you've seen this young woman," the man replied, and I heard the rustling of photo paper. "She's been missing since the twentieth."

I could hear Carlisle take the paper from the officer and I very faintly wondered what photograph it was.

"Her name's Rosalie Hale," the officer explained. "Apparently she left a friend's house after dark on the twentieth and never returned home."

"Oh no," Carlisle said quietly.

The officer sounded remorseful as he said, "Her parents and her fiance- Royce King the Third- are desperate to find her- there's a reward for any information anyone might have on her whereabouts."

Of course Royce had posted a reward for information on me. Of course he would play the panicked, desperate fiance. It made me clench my jaw within the foldings of my pillow.

"I wish I could help you, officer," Carlisle said, his words heavy with regret as he returned the picture to the policeman. "But I haven't seen her."

The man let out a tired, sorry-sounding breath, and he said, "That's too bad.... You'll let us know if you hear of anything?"

"Of course."

"Thank you for your time, Doctor Cullen," the officer said. "Give my best to Mrs. Cullen."

Carlisle sounded appropriately somber as he replied, "I will, officer. Have a good day," and shut the door.

After a long moment footsteps sounded back to the car, and Carlisle made his way back up the stairs. Carefully, he opened the door, stepped inside, and closed it behind him. I didn't move to look at him- instead, I kept my face pressed into the pillow, the stranger's stench and Royce's reward still clouding up my thoughts. Silence passed between Carlisle and Esme for a beat, and I'm sure they were sharing a moment of reassurance between themselves.

"He's gone," Carlisle said, mostly for my benefit. "Everything's okay."

And even though his words were meant to be reassuring, I kept my breath held in, kept my face hidden in the down pillow, refused to look at anything but darkness. Because, as far as I was concerned, _nothing_ was okay.

* * *

Several days later, Edward returned, and Esme left my side for the first time- through hunting and dry heaving and stoic staring- to meet him downstairs. Without even wanting to, I heard all of their dialogue from my position atop my daybed.

"Edward," she said, her voice a mix of anger, accusation, and concern, as she descended the stairs and met him in the front hall. "Where have you been?"

He sighed. "I'm sorry, Esme," he said. "I just- I couldn't be here with- with her being the way she is."

"Edward, she's been through a lot. You can't expect her to-"

"I don't expect anything from her," he hissed back, trying to keep his voice low. "But I can hear it all and after that first hunt- I needed some time to collect myself."

I didn't really understand what they were saying- though I knew that they were talking about me- but I couldn't stop listening.

Esme let out a small breath- almost a sigh- and said, "I'm disappointed in you, Edward."

He didn't say anything in response.

"Instead of avoiding her you could be using your abilities to help her- to make this an easier transition for her," she told him. "I know it's hard for you to remember with her, but you have a gift that you're throwing away."

What gift were they talking about? How could Edward possibly be remembering _with_ me?

There was hardly a beat that passed between them, before Edward countered, "Do you want me to help her with my _gift_ so that I can be her knight in shining armor and we can fall madly in love?"

This was so surprising that it rocked me to my core.

"Edward-"

"Because I know that's what Carlisle's hoping for-"

"It's only that you must be so lonely- and he only wants you to be happy-"

"So he changed the poor little rich girl who's just been _raped_?!"

It felt like I had been slapped in the face- my whole world ringing from the impact of it- leaving me half disoriented and half hurt.

Quietly, Esme said, "Edward, you know that's not the only reason he changed her, he wanted to save her life."

"And if I happened to think she was pretty, then so much the better, right?"

"You're being very selfish about this, Edward," she said, her voice low but still heavy with importance. "From any angle, you're being selfish."

He was silent for a beat, and then he said, "She may be pretty, Esme, but I'm not interested," and then he strode across the hall and left the house once more, slamming the door behind him.

And I was left feeling both wrung out and insulted, for reasons I could only partially understand.

* * *

"Rosalie, I'd like to tell you a story," Esme said from her spot beside my bed, on one of the last days of April.

At that point I was still bedridden, save for my nightly hunts. Part of me wanted to get up and start living again, but another part of me didn't feel I deserved it. I was disgusted and depressed, and I hated everything about who I was and what I had been through. My every day was an onslaught of painful memories and an even more painful thirst. I wondered what was going on in the outside world, but I also tried to ignore any information I could glean from Carlisle and Esme's conversations. I didn't want to hear anything about the outside, but at the same time, I wanted to be immersed in my old life- in the times when everything was perfect and golden, albeit counterfeit.

"Esme, I don't think-"

"Please," she insisted gently. "All you have to do is listen."

I acquiesced, but only because Esme was always by my side- always willing to make things easier for me.

She sat up in her chair and folded her hands on her lap, looking at the curtained window- where sunshine was fighting to get through- before looking back at me and beginning.

"When I was human I was married to a man named Charles," she said.

This shocked me for two reasons- one, because it was nearly impossible to think of Esme with anyone other than Carlisle, and two, because since finding out about being a vampire, it was impossible for me to think of the Cullens as having anything but the life they had made me a part of. It occurred to me then that they all had lives prior to this one- that they must have been turned as well.

"My plan had been to move West- see the world a bit, meet people, maybe find the man I loved- but my parents believed that I should settle down and start a family right away," she said, glancing down and twisting her wedding ring around her finger. "And, well, I had always wanted a family, so.... I married Charles."

The way she was frowning- her eyes going dark all of a sudden- made me remember that this wasn't a happy story, and I sat up a little more.

She looked back at me as she said, "Things turned bad very quickly." I frowned. "Behind closed doors Charles hurt me- any way he could. And after the second time it happened I told my mother, and she told me that my job was to be a good wife, and she coached me on how to fake a smile for the world, warning me to never mention my problems to anyone ever again."

Her words made me think back on Royce- on little things, like his distaste when I was unhappy about something, the way his eyes would flash when he didn't get his way, and bigger things, like my last day as a human, where he violently raped me, beat me, and then hoped I was dead.

"When Charles went overseas during the war it was the happiest time of my life," Esme said, smiling again. "I spent my days gardening and taking walks, reading, and calling on friends," she shrugged. "I was free and happy again." Her face clouded over once more and she said, "But then Charles came back and- and it was like the war had made him even angrier, even more violent."

I cringed at this.

Shaking her head slightly, she continued, "It got to a point where I missed my freedom and happiness so much- where I was so tired of being depressed and broken- that I just ran away." This actually made me smile slightly, and I waited for her to go on. "I went North and started teaching.... and then found out I was pregnant."

"With Charles's baby?"

She nodded. "The day Jonathan was born was the happiest day of my life," she said, her face glowing with memories. "It was like all those empty, horrible feelings I had experienced with Charles were just gone- replaced by this buoyancy his son gave me."

"But.... what happened?" I prompted.

"Jonathan died when he was just two weeks old- he had a lung infection and he was just too little to fight it," she whispered. "And my world broke apart all over again- worse than before...."

I swallowed.

"I tried to kill myself by jumping off a cliff," she said, and I took in a sharp breath. "I was nearly dead when Carlisle found me in a morgue- my heart barely beating- and he changed me."

Taking this in, I paused, then asked, "Weren't you mad at him?"

She smiled and shook her head. "No, I was grateful that I was alive- grateful that I had a second chance at life."

The way she said it made me realize that she was telling me that I, too, had a second chance at life, and I should be grateful as well.

"And I thank God everyday that I'm alive now- forever- because if I had died I never would have known the happiness that I have with Carlisle," she told me. "I never would have known what it means to live a happy life."

"But you're a monster," I replied vehemently. "How could you be happy being what you are?"

She shrugged. "The good far outweighs the bad, Rosalie."

I couldn't comprehend that.

"You were given a second chance at life too," she said softly. "And I know it's painful now, and I know things are hard, but you need to give yourself some time to heal. I promise you'll find your happiness too."

I wanted to believe her, but I was so wounded that it felt impossible to ever be truly happy again.

She reached over and stroked my cheek- just like my own mother had done countless times- and I felt that empty tugging of not being able to cry.

"Just promise me you'll give yourself a _chance_ to be happy," she said. "You deserve it."

I managed to say, "I promise," only because I wanted to make her happy- wanted to repay her for all she was doing for me.

She smiled and nodded once, pleased.

We were both silent for a time, and I felt like the quiet opened up an opportunity for me to question Esme about Edward, to ask for an explanation to the conversation I had overheard between them. But I didn't feel comfortable doing it, and I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of my asking- even if he didn't know- so I stayed quiet.

"What happened to Charles?" I asked instead. "After you ran away?"

She smiled, having this unspoken understanding of why I asked- knowing that I had connected Royce and Charles without my even saying it.

"He was hit by a car," she told me. "One night walking home from a bar."

I considered this. "And he died?"

She nodded.

Outside, I heard a car approaching the house, and I knew right away that it was Carlisle. He pulled into the driveway and Esme smiled to herself. The look that swept over her face- that contentment and glow that overcame her anytime Carlisle was near- made my stomach clench as we listened to him get out of the car and approach the house.

"Carlisle's home," she said, as if I didn't know. "You'll be okay for a few minutes, right?" she asked.

I nodded wordlessly, and she got up, ghosted to the door and was kissing Carlisle hello in a brief moment, and I was left to sink into my thoughts.

* * *

Days passed.

In the outside world, people were giving up hope. Though my parents and Vera begged that everyone continue with full efforts, the police couldn't waste all of their energy on what everyone deemed a hopeless case. Either I was dead, or I was an ungrateful brat who had run away from a perfect marriage and perfect life. Royce's rewards stopped going up, and he stopped at one grand sum, saying it would go to anyone who knew of my whereabouts. But nobody did, and nobody wanted to be connected to the scandal anyway. Because, where my mysterious disappearance had brought attention and sympathy to my parents- I _was_ Royce King's fiance after all- it was now bringing them pity and shame. People had somehow disconnected us from the Kings and now we were just a broken family whose name had been dragged through the mud. And because of this, every ambition they had ever had- every confidence that we could be of the same caliber as the Kings- was dashed now that I was gone, and I felt sorry for them. Because they didn't care anymore- about being a part of high society- they were just too broken to really know what to do with themselves or their status.

In the Cullen's home, I was weighted down with thoughts. Where did I go from here, I wondered. I was going to live forever, but I couldn't spend my whole existence holed up in a darkened bedroom, feeling ashamed and pitiful because of Royce. It wasn't right. It was a waste of me- of who I was and everything that I was worth- and I couldn't stand it. But then again, how could I ever make amends with this life? With being a monster and having been through all I had been through? It felt like I couldn't even remember happiness, being light, thinking only of frivolous things, perfection. And as the days passed, those memories seemed to get further and further away. Going to lunch with Vera, playing with her baby. Telling my brothers to grow up when I was trying to listen to the radio and they insisted on bickering like the schoolboys they were. Rolling my eyes at my mother. Beaming for my father. Pining over things that seemed so painfully inconsequential now. And as my sharpened world made all the memories dim slightly- fold in on themselves and blur like chalk drawings in the rain- I found myself clinging to them- no matter how much it hurt.

I was out of bed though- sometimes venturing to an armchair or a standing position by the veiled window. And my new family- albeit Edward, of course- believed that was progress.

That's where I was when everything changed. Standing by the window. Looking at the side of the grassy lot and the sunny world through the curtains.

Downstairs, Esme and Carlisle played a game of chess, teasing each other and laughing companionably, while Edward played with the keys of the piano, trickling sweet, beautiful music throughout the house.

As always, my thoughts drifted to my human life, and I felt anger and disgust. Like looking upon a failed project or a sloppy assignment. It felt like everything I had done- experiences I had had, how I had learned to utilize my beauty, the way I had climbed so high in being engaged to Royce- was a waste. Why had I climbed the latter of life if I was just going to be throttled, knocked off of it, and thrown on a carousal that could never stop? Why hadn't I been spared by some higher, divine being?

But, truthfully, I knew I had been great. Beautiful. Special. I had been a good girl, intelligent enough, polite, good. I pulled my family out of middle class and brought them into the world of the Kings. All because of my beauty, because of what I wanted and who I was. And, if I had been permitted to continue in my human life, I would have been even better. The sky had been my limit.

And now..... Now I was a monster, locked away from the world and throbbing with thirst and hindsight.

With a sudden burst of anger and defiance- at what or who, I'm not entirely sure- I threw back the curtains on my window and let the sunshine stream into the room.

Part of me expected to burn- like all the books and movies said- and I half welcomed it. If nothing human could kill or hurt me, I would just have to use my own vampire flaws to find punishment. But there was no burn- no blistering heat or angry fire- just the bright sunlight shining into my eyes, on my face, and through my hair, unable to warm me. I let myself droop in disappointment, but it was as my hand came down from the curtain, that I saw it.

Sparkling. Incandescent vibrancy, like the glitter of a million diamonds.

Looking down at my hands, I saw that my pale, pale skin was the source of the brilliancy. It fascinated me, pulled me into a trance as I stared at my delicate hands and wrists, my hard skin reflecting luminescence into the room. Then, after a long moment, I did a quarter turn and faced myself in the mirror across the way, and I gasped. All of me shimmered, glittering like I was made from the dust of crushed, precious gemstones. My golden hair complimented the sparkle, refracting light as well, all of me glowing like some kind of iridescent angel.

And that's when I knew.

There was beauty in this- enough for me to tolerate being a monster- and if I had to spend my existence as a vampire, I would be the best. I would be above killing humans. I would be in control of all my disabilities and adept at all of my strengths. In a world of beautiful monsters, I would be the most beautiful.

With this uplifting resolution, I felt exhilarated, and I ghosted out of my room and downstairs, where Carlisle, Esme, and Edward were all convened.

When I stood in the doorway, Esme and Carlisle looked up from their chess game, but Edward continued with the piano, ignoring me.

Esme looked confused and she said, "Rosalie?"

"Did you want to go hunting earlier tonight?"

I was almost afraid to say what I really wanted- however silly and little it really was- but I thought of Edward and of Royce and of Esme's story, and I confirmed that I _was_ too good to spend my existence lying in a bed, being depressed. If I was going to be a vampire than I was going to do it on my own terms, and, yes, I was going to find something that I enjoyed out of it.

"No, I was actually wondering if I could get some of my own clothes," I said, and Edward shook his head, though he didn't turn around. "You know, just a couple new outfits from a catalog or something."

Esme and Carlisle exchanged a look, and I noticed the optimism there.

Smiling at me warmly, Esme said, "I don't think that should be a problem at all."

And it wasn't.


	4. One of these Days

**Chapter Four**

**One of these Days**

**May 31, 1934 - June 28, 1934 **

* * *

Within the week my room in the Cullen's house was suddenly and beautifully filled with boxes from Macy's and Sear's, and other smaller clothing boutiques, spilling tissue paper and string onto every available surface. Specially ordered skirts, dresses, blouses, and shoes, a few hats, slips and stockings, were pulled out of the boxes- one by one- and tried on. I modeled the clothing for myself, and sometimes Esme, and then put everything away, folded up in drawers and hung up inside my wardrobe. And after each night's hunt- where I'd wear a shirt borrowed from Carlisle, and riding pants- I'd strip down and take a bath, replete with shampoo and bath salts and soap that I didn't need. I'd wash my hair and scrub my body, and then get ready for the day- fix my hair, pick out something nice, and accessorize it with the right shoes and maybe a necklace or earrings. And the routine, the normalcy of it all, made me feel just the smallest bit better- distracted me enough that I only thought about Royce when I was idle.

So I kept busy. I tried on a hundred outfits throughout the course of the day, mixed and matched articles of clothing and hairstyles- anything I could do to keep myself preoccupied.

I was doing just this- pinning my hair in various ways- when Edward found me in my room one late afternoon in the spring.

"You know," he said from the doorway, watching me in the mirror above my dresser. "You could buy out all of Macy's and it wouldn't change anything."

My pinning stalled briefly as I regarded his reflection in the mirror, but then I went back to work, ignoring him.

"Appearances only matter so much," he added, taking a step into the room, his hands shoved humanly in his pockets.

I didn't even dignify his words with a glance his way. Considering the way he had treated me ever since I had arrived- acting as if I had leprosy or something- I wasn't going to give him the time of day.

He rolled his eyes and let out a little huff of breath, as if I had said something to bother him. "You'd probably just be better off facing it all head on," he advised.

"I'm sorry," I finally replied, feigning surprise. "Are you talking to _me_?"

Smirking at me grimly, he continued on- as if I hadn't said a thing to discourage him- "It's all sitting there in the back of your brain- I know- if you ignore it and keep it buried it's just going to get worse until you can't handle it anymore."

I thought of Royce- everything about him filling me up and clouding my mind- and I pushed the memories back down.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I said, shaking out my hair and picking up a brush from the dresser.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about," he said, his voice a little less harsh.

Running the brush through the thick waves of my golden hair, I calmly replied, "Please leave."

He ignored me. "Do you know what you're doing?" he asked, his voice passionate. "If you let it fester it'll only-"

"Leave," I growled at his reflection.

"I'm trying to _help_ you-"

"_Help me_?" I yelped, losing my patience and slamming the brush down so hard on the dresser that the silver dented the wood. "You hypocritical _jerk_! You're trying to _preach_ to me!"

He shook his head, looking impatient and tired. "No, I'm not."

"You- of all people?- You have no right to be giving me advice and telling me what to do!" I shouted, even though I knew Esme was listening to the whole conversation with bated breath from her needlework downstairs. "You've treated me like some kind of invalid ever since I got here! You don't know me, you don't know what I've been through- so don't you do dare treat me the way you've treated me and then think you can come up here, criticize me, and try to _fix_ me!"

_Do you want me to help her with my gift so that I can be her knight in shining armor and we can fall madly in love?_

I wanted to flinch as I recalled his strange words to Esme, but I remained still, glaring at him with my hands balled into fists at my sides.

"I'm not here to fix you," Edward said, once the descending silence had permeated the entirety of the room. "I'm here because I'm sick of suffering with you. And since Carlisle insists we adopt you into our lives, I'd rather not deal with your bad memories on top of your vain princess complex."

The shaking started from my fingertips and spread throughout my body, until I was vibrating with anger. "You don't know anything- you couldn't begin to imagine-"

"I know _everything_!" he said with finality, cutting me off.

I shook my head, hardly able to produce the words as I said, "What are you talking about? How could you-"

"I can hear people's thoughts," he explained, his voice falling solemn. "Ever since I became a vampire."

This shocked me into stillness as I let the horror of his words sink in.

That's what Esme meant about him using his gift to help me- what she meant when she said he was remembering _with_ me.

As this thought became realer, I became angrier, and I began to shake even more.

He knew how I felt. He was reliving all those horrible moments, the betrayal, the surreal pain of my life being ripped from me- he felt it all- and he was still cruel. Despite being able to know exactly how I felt, and see and experience everything I had been through- he was still being a horrible, selfish person.

_Don't be such a fucking tease._

Royce's hands on me- all over me.

_Take it like a lady._

The blood everywhere, draining out of my body, and all my hopes and dreams of love and marriage and a family seeping away with it.

And suddenly my vision was clouded over in madness, and my anger was so intense that a scream ripped out of my throat without my being able to control it. I didn't think, I didn't know, I just lunged at Edward without being aware that I was doing it, and I watched with satisfaction as he was unable to flinch away fast enough.

I pounded and clawed at his face and chest, screaming all the while, governed by the violation of him knowing everything I thought I could conceal- everything I was ashamed to have anyone else know. He tried to fight me, but I was such a young vampire that I overpowered him- had him herded against the wall where I was hitting, scratching, screaming and fighting him.

"Get out!" I screamed, my shrill, angry voice still beautiful to my ears. "Get out now! Get out, you bastard!"

"Rosalie! Rosalie, stop!" suddenly Esme was in the room with us, trying to pry Edward and me apart. "Rosalie, calm _down_!"

Somehow she managed to separate us both, and she grabbed hold of me, embracing me tightly, stroking my hair, trying to calm me.

"Edward, go," she instructed him over my shoulder.

He didn't need to be told twice. Looking seriously roughed up and shocked by my outburst, he fled the room.

As he left and went to exit the house I was screaming, "I hate you, you bastard! I HATE YOU!" And when he left- when he was gone from the house entirely- I finally sank into Esme's embrace and cried hysterically, heaving against her in pitiful, dry sobs.

* * *

Edward was wise and he stayed away from the house for about a week- which is how long it took for my anger to even begin to abate. When he did return, however, I still felt the urge to scratch out his eyes and rip his limbs from their sockets, but I managed to keep my anger under control. And even though we were being civil, Carlisle and Esme sat us down after just two days so we could have a talk.

"Esme and I have been thinking," Carlisle said after our nightly hunt- after I had bathed and dressed and felt I looked my best. "And we think it might be time to move- find another place to call home."

His words made my throat close up and I shook my head incomprehensibly.

Seeing how distressed I was getting, Esme cut in and said, "It's just- it's not fair for you to be shuttered away all day and night, Rosalie. If we moved to another town you could at least get out once in a while- be around people again."

"No," I managed to rasp. "How could- No!"

"Rosalie, we understand how difficult this is-"

"This is my _home_!" I shouted, as thoughts of my parents, my childhood home, Vera, Patrick and Henry, and even Royce, all flooded my brain. I wasn't ready to say goodbye to my life- wasn't ready to leave Rochester. "This is my life! You can't take me away!"

Edward impatiently shook his head, snapping, "Your life is over here. Or hadn't you realized?"

"Edward," Carlisle scolded.

While it was clear Edward hadn't forgiven me for my attack on him- no matter how justified I had been in doing it- it was also clear that Carlisle and Esme were not happy with the way he had went about talking to me. Upon his return Carlisle and talked to him thoroughly about what he had done, about how much deeper my injuries ran than simply what Edward heard, and he told him that if he couldn't welcome me into the family as he had welcomed him as a newborn than their would need to be an adjustment. Edward hadn't apologized for what he had said, but he hadn't made any attempt to continue our conversation either.

"Who's being selfish now?" Edward countered. "She's going to keep us here because she doesn't want to leave a life that's over!"

"Would you shut up?" I turned on him and hissed. "Stop talking about me like I'm not even here!"

Carlisle cut across us both. "You two need to learn to live together because we _are_ a family now." He gave us each a stern look, and I almost cut him off and said, 'I already have a family' but I held my tongue as he contiued, "You need to be kinder to one another."

As far as I was concerned, I hadn't done anything but defend myself so I just looked beyond him at the wall.

"The fact of the matter, however, is that we can't stay here forever, Rosalie," he told me, his voice regretful and soft. "We can stay here a little bit longer but people do wonder why we don't age- why we keep to ourselves and seem so different- so there will come a time when we'll need to move."

This made me suck in my breath and hold it.

He gave me a sad smile. "Besides, we want you to be happy, and moving on might help you heal- it might help you to get back into the world and be around people once more."

I shook my head. "I only want to be around these people- in Rochester." I wanted to cry so badly, wanted the tears to fill up my eyes, but they wouldn't. "I want my best friend and my brothers- I want my mother."

My voice was so pitiful that I had to stop myself, and I saw Carlisle's face fall as he heard my words.

"I want my old life back."

Esme looked like she was about to say something to comfort me but before she could I got up and left the room, flitted up the stairs, and hid myself away, with my face pressed down into the pillow on my bed.

"We could always drag her from the house in the middle of night," I heard Edward say. "I'm sure we could all manage-"

"Edward, now is not the time."

There was a brief pause before he replied and said, "Don't be mad at me because I'm not courting her already."

Esme said, "Edward!"

"That's not what this is about," Carlisle replied at the same time, his voice sounding the slightest bit impatient. "What you did- the way you went about talking to her- was inexcusable," he continued. "You made her problems unimportant and you were arrogant and selfish- You made it seem as if she didn't matter at all and we've taught you better than that."

There was silence for a beat.

Carlisle then said, "And still you don't even show the slightest remorse."

"She's waltzing through our lives like some kind of princess and I'm supposed to be _sorry_?" he countered. "She's going to ruin it for all of us!"

"Edward, you don't know that," Esme chided softly.

I could hear him shake his head as he said, "It's not hard to guess," and disappear into the garage.

* * *

Carlisle's suggestion that we leave Rochester set me on edge. Where I had been floating along, trying my hardest to ignore my vampire lifestyle and the way my life had ended, pretending as if I was just on some kind of vacation from my life, his words brought me back to the hard reality of it. I couldn't go back to my family or my friends. I was separate from their lives entirely now, and at some point I would have to leave Rochester forever. I wasn't ready for that though. Something about being close enough to everyone- within walking distance of my parents and my home, just a few streets from my best friend's house- made me feel like everything could turn around and be right again. But, still, I missed them.

I missed the little things. Like, sitting and eating breakfast with my mother, rolling my eyes at her gossip and her calculations. I missed the smell of my father's sweaters, the way his eyes would light up at the sight of me after a hard day at the bank. I longed for the presence of my brothers, mourning the fact that I would never be able to see the men they would become. And I missed Vera. I missed her honesty and her loyalty- I even missed her crass attitude and her ratty house dress. I ached to think that we would never sit together on her couch, complaining about this or that, laughing and talking and being comfortable and happy together. And I worried over the fact that my disappearance was, without a doubt, breaking her heart.

I realized- a week or so into June- that I had missed Vera's birthday in May. For the first time since she had moved to Rochester, I hadn't been there as my best friend turned another year older, and the thought left me feeling so guilty that I wrote a letter out to her.

_Dear Vera,_

_I miss you so much. Everything is falling apart and_

_You were right about R_

_I wish I could have told you that I was alive sooner. I wish I could explain to you where I am, what I've become and what got me here, but I couldn't bear for you to know. I couldn't stand the way you'd think of me. So I'm telling you now that I'm alive, but I can't come back. No one would They would never let It's not possible. Just know that I love you and that I miss you more than you could ever imagine. No matter where I am or_ what_ I am, I'll always be Henry's godmother and your best friend sister. Always know that. And please don't ever forget me- don't let anyone forget me. _

_Also, happy belated birthday. I'm so sorry I missed it. _

_Yours Truly,_

_Rosalie_

But, of course, I never sent it.

* * *

"Maine's beautiful this time of year."

Edward snorted at Esme's less-than-subtle attempt to get me to consider leaving Rochester, but I barely glanced at her- barely _heard_ her. Instead, I just tied the tails of Carlisle's shirt in a knot, cinching the large shirt around my waist, preparing to go out with them for my nightly hunt, impatience and need humming under my skin. It was because of this monumental distraction- my thirst for blood that was so bad I was feeling the venom lap at the back of my tongue- that I wasn't even annoyed by her words. Besides that, Esme and Carlisle had been trying for weeks to gently coax me into wanting to go away- even just for the summer, they compromised- but nothing they said could convince me. So, I just ignored her as we waited for Carlisle in the front hall- me, growing even more antsy with every passing second.

"Did you hear that, Rosalie?" Edward said, because he was finally back to speaking to me by then- though all of his words were still sarcastic and rude, though mostly harmless. "We could go sight-seeing in between all of your catolog perusing and hair brushing."

Esme gave him a scolding look, but they both went unnoticed by me.

Instead of acknowledging either of them, I said, "Is he going to be ready any time soon?"

This happened before every hunt for those first months. I became detached from myself- became completely single-minded, impatient and determined. Nothing mattered as much as hunting and drinking- not my past life, not my desire to be human again. And nothing was fast enough, clear enough, good enough. I felt as if my bodyguards weighed me down, kept me from flying past them and at any and every animal that came my way. On top of that, none of them were as eager about the hunt as I was- nowhere near as obsessed with it- and so they sometimes took longer than I would have liked to get out and _go_.

Just as I wondered about Carlisle's punctuality, he appeared in the doorway of the kitchen and met us to leave. All he had to say was "Ready?" and I was wrenching the door open and running toward the woods, the trio soon at my carefully-paced heels.

We went about the night as usual. I stretched my legs, enjoying the wind and the vast jump of miles underneath me, until I fell completely into the ease of hunting- until I was in control and alert and ready. Then, I let my senses lead me to the first deer, elk, or other woodland animal I could find.

That night, it happened to be a mountain lion.

The scent of blood- sweet and wet and so very relieving to my aching throat- pulled me up to the edge of a rocky cliff. Pinning down a struggling deer, silhouetted by the light of the waning moon, was a massive, wild mountain lion. I stopped just a few feet from him and he met my eyes, backing up, allowing the deer to escape, instinctively aware that I was after him.

I lunged at him, wrapping my arms around his monstrous shoulders. He immediately opened his jaw, let out a deep, angry growl, and then tried to sink his teeth into my neck. His bite, however, did nothing, so he tried to swipe at me with his huge claws, but only managed to rip at Carlisle's shirt. I wrestled him for a moment- accustomed to fighting mostly deer- and finally bit into his neck, causing him to scream out and fight me further.

I drank from him for only a moment before he was thrashing against me, and my teeth lost purchase with his neck. Blood seeped down from my lips and I tried to bite at him again, but he wasn't letting down. As he kicked and clawed and screamed in pain and defense, I tried to get a firm hold around him- tried to keep him down. I almost had him- my arms almost managing to get him down and pin him to the ground- when I felt the cliff disappear from underneath me and we were falling.

The fall only lasted a moment or two, and when we landed I endured the brunt of the impact, my body ringing from landing on solid ground, but otherwise perfectly intact. Beside me, the lion was trying to get up, but it was swaying on its feet, falling over itself- the venom, the fall, and the gash in its neck finally bringing it down. I was incredibly thirsty, my throat aching even more from the single gulp I had gotten from it, so I moved to finish it off, but something stopped me.

Suddenly the blood still pumping through the animal underneath me tasted dull on my tongue, the venom washing away any remaining worth. Instead, I smelled something so sweet, so warm and fufilling and promising, that I knew no deer or mountain lion or buck could satisfy me. And while I didn't know what the scent was attached to, I knew I needed it.

"Rosalie!"

I was faintly aware of the voices behind me as I shot up and flew through the woods, but I didn't pay them any mind. Instead I focused on the scent as it grew stronger, the deep thirst that burned through me, the beating of a heart pumping blood through a body, and I continued.

Jumping a creek and running onward, I suddenly knew where the blood was- who it belonged to. A little boy- a small, human boy. But I didn't care. Faint reminders of wanting to be the best vampire, wanting to be in control and more capable than anyone else, entered and flitted out of my brain. I wanted this boy's blood running over my lips and tongue, washing my throat in relief, and so I ran.

"Rosalie! ROSALIE, STOP!"

I could see it through the trees- a campsite in a small clearing, small enough for two people. I smelled the father, just a stone's throw from the boy, urinating by a tree, his blood not as pure or sweet as the boy's. And I smelled the boy too, sleeping peacefully by the fire, still enough for me to snatch up.

I was close- so close that I slowed myself down to stop and lunge at him, to savor the moment just before the attack- and just as I was about to reach the clearing someone's arms were around me and they were throwing me backword.

A growl ripped its way up my throat and I looked up to see Edward standing there. I made a move to retaliate but he was on me before I could, pinning down both my wrists and straddling my waist on the forest floor.

_Take it like a lady._

"Stop it!" he hissed at me. "Get a fucking hold of yourself and think about what you're _doing_!"

I couldn't think. Everything was colored in tides of red. I was angry. Wild. I wanted to kill- wanted to kill him for what he was doing and then drink the little boy dry.

Before I got a chance to thrash him away from me and rip his head off though, Esme and Carlisle were there with us, holding me down as well.

"Rosalie," Carlisle said, his voice calm and soothing even as I fought their restraints. "Rosalie, you don't want to do this."

I did- I wanted his blood more than I had ever wanted anything else. All I knew was his blood.

Esme spoke next, saying, "He's a little boy- An innocent little boy on a camping trip with his father."

I knew this, but somehow it didn't connect in my brain.

"Look," Edward said, his voice gentler than I had ever heard it, and he released my neck just enough for me to turn and look at the campsite from where we were.

And I saw him. Really saw him. He was young- only six or seven- with sweet blonde hair and full cheeks. He was wrapped up in blankets near the fire, his thumb lingering near his slightly opened mouth. I was suddenly reminded of the Lindbergh baby, of my youngest brother Stanley- and then the father returned to the site, looking down at his son and smiling, kissing his forehead gently before settling into sleep beside him. And then, without warning, I was awash with guilt, and I went limp under the Cullens' holds, still aching with thirst but completely disgusted with myself.

I had let my thirst take control of me and I had let it drive me wild- something I had vowed I would never let happen. I needed to be reintroduced to humans and taught how to coexist with them without wanting to rip them apart when one smelled particularly good. I needed to learn. I needed to...

"Please," I whispered, hardly believing what I was about to ask but finding no other alternative. "Please, teach me- Take me where ever you need to take me and teach me."

Carlisle nodded and they relaxed just enough to let me stand up, though they never let go of me once.

"We'll help you, Rosalie," Carlisle said, as they led me away from the site with firm grips. "You're not alone. We'll help you."


	5. Orchids in the Moonlight

**Chapter Five**

**Orchids in the Moonlight**

**July 1, 1934 - July 13, 1934**

* * *

For everyone in Rochester, the story went like this: Esme and Edward's sister lived on Long Island and she had just had her first baby. As a nice summer getaway and a way of helping their sister, Edward was going to be leaving to stay on Long Island, shortly followed by Esme and Carlisle, for the summer months and they would all return to Rochester in September. In actuality, Carlisle was sending Edward and me ahead to a house he had bought in the forests of Maine, right on the coast, and he would join us with Esme when he had finished up his last week at work and they had closed up the house and taken care of any remaining business before the summer.

So, on the morning of July first, they made this big show of Edward loading his bags and some other various things– including all of my clothes– into his Delage D8, saying good-bye to Esme and Carlisle, and then driving off. An hour or so later, Carlisle went to work and Esme began to pack up some things at a human speed, and I sat, looking on with anxiety and hopelessness.

When she noticed my discontented expression though, she stopped and knelt before me, taking my hands in hers. "I know it's scary," she whispered, her voice unnecessarily but comfortingly quiet. "But everything will turn out all right– You'll see."

It was with her kneeling there before me, her golden eyes so soft and sincere, her touch so caring and her presence so motherly, that I fell apart. I sobbed dryly, dipping my chin against my chest, staring at my lap and shaking with unshed tears. Seeing this, she let go of my hands and got up to sit beside me on the loveseat, wrapping her arms around me, stroking my hair.

"It's not fair," I managed to whisper, wishing futilely that I would just shed one tear. "It's just not fair."

"I know, I know," she reassured me softly. "But you're going to have a life now– We're going to help you and you're going to live again."

I pulled away from her and looked up, "How? How could I possibly live again after what they did to me? And now that I'm this– this _thing_ that wants to rip little boys apart and drink their blood?" I shuddered. "How can I live when I don't even know who I am anymore?"

It had plagued me since it had happened, but I hadn't talked about it once. And now, now that the words were spilling out of me I was even more horrified by what I had almost done– by the fact that I had gone so wild, had lost all control, and that I would have happily killed an innocent child if it meant I could feed my hunger.

"Rosalie, you're a newborn," Esme said, taking my hands again and squeezing them. "You're a newborn vampire whose human life ended unfairly– unjustifiably– but you'll grow up and things will become easier. I promise you that."

I shook my head, squinting my eyes against tears that weren't there. "How can you know that?"

"I was exactly where you are," she reminded me. "My husband had raped me, beaten me– he had done terrible things– and then my one salvation was taken away from me too– my little boy."

Remembering this, I took in a calming breath.

She continued. "I knew pain and tragedy so well that I tried to end my own life– only to be welcomed into a new one where I couldn't control myself and was governed solely by my desire to kill and drink." A smile tugs on her lips as she says, "But I had help and I had time to heal and grow, and so do you. We're here for you, Rosalie, and we're going to help you– no matter how long it takes."

"Not Edward," I said, before I could stop myself. "Edward would prefer it if I had died in the streets."

This made her frown, and she said, "Edward's still growing up and he's still getting used to you being here. You'll have to forgive him– he really is a good person– he just needs time too."

I almost considered asking her about what Edward had said ages ago– about Carlisle wanting us to be together and changing me partly for that reason– but I held my tongue. We may have been having a heart-to-heart, but I wasn't ready for that to be out in the open yet– at least not without my consent.

"Edward will be back in a few hours and you'll be on your way to Maine," she said optimistically, breaking into the silence. "Once we're there everything will be better."

I tried to say something in response to this, but I couldn't find the words– I had never really left Rochester before, had never been farther than the Goodchild's summer home, and the idea that I would be in Maine in just hours was making me question my decision– so I just nodded and let her pat my hands, before she returned to do some more packing.

* * *

Just like Esme said, Edward returned just after the sky had turned completely dark. He was slightly windblown from the run, but otherwise unbothered. He didn't even make a snide comment on my usual hunting attire or our departure in general. Instead, he just asked me if I was ready in a neutral voice. I managed to nod and looked to Esme and Carlisle, standing with us in the kitchen, looking every bit the worried parents that they were.

"Everything was okay at the house– right, Edward?" Carlisle asked.

Edward nodded. "The phone's all ready and all the furniture's there."

Carlisle nodded as well, saying, "All right. Stick to the route we mapped out and you shouldn't run into too many– if any at all– humans– and call us when you get there."

"If you two want to set up the house a bit before we get there that would be fine," Esme interjected with a smile. "Pick your rooms out, at least."

"Edward, you remember the areas that are safe to hunt in?"

Edward nodded, looking as if he was free of almost any annoyances or tension for the first time since I had stopped burning.

Carlisle gave us an appraising look, then said, "You should be good then."

"Everything will be fine," Esme said, hugging me to her. Then, she let go of me and embraced Edward, giving him an encouraging smile when he was released. "As long as you behave. Both of you."

Carlisle tacked onto this sentiment by saying, "Yes, please, we don't want to find you two in pieces when we get there."

I managed a quick smile at this, though I could imagine my frozen heart careening out of my chest as our actually leaving was getting closer and closer.

"You'll be fine," Carlisle assured me, giving my arm a squeeze. "Edward will take good care of you, and then we'll be with you in a couple of days."

This wasn't exactly reassuring– that Edward would take care of me– so I didn't say anything in response, just followed as we all exited the house by the back door.

"Edward knows the way, Rosalie, just remember to pace yourself and follow his lead," Carlisle said. "You'll reach Maine in no time."

I swallowed down my fear– a foreign feeling in this new body– and nodded silently.

"Good luck," Esme said, and then Edward was shooting off for the woods, me, close at his heels.

First, we hunted, using the familiar territory to satiate our thirst with a handful of deer. Then, Edward led the way and we started on our journey to Maine.

We were silent as we ran, scenery passing by us like story book pictures. Miles and miles of forest, rivers, quiet, sleeping farmland, valleys, and then more forest, rising up into the mountains. Beside me, Edward was concentrating, following the route Carlisle had outlined for him, steering me away from any human activity when we came across it. I was surprised at how calmly he was going about it– so willingly acting as my guide and babysitter– without even a trace of resentment. It was strange– after the things he had said to me, after the way he had acted– but I didn't comment on it. Instead, I kept my thoughts to myself and followed him into Maine.

We were on our last stretch of land– up the mountain, alongside the edge of the cliff, and then, finally up to the house– when the dark sky opened up with an earsplitting crack of thunder and a sudden downpour of rain. We were drenched within minutes, ghosting onward through the sheets of water, quickly slipping through the pines.

By the time we reached the edge of the cliff, I was distracted. The rain was making everything smell different around me– the trees, the wet dirt, the animals– and I was so immersed in it that it was keeping me from thinking about anything other than my surroundings. And then we were at the edge of the cliff, with the dark gray Atlantic thrashing against the rocky beach a hundred feet below, and Edward kept running, but I stopped dead in my tracks.

It didn't take long for him to miss me, and he halted just a handful of yards away, turning and saying, "Rosalie."

I shook my head, staring in awe at the white-capped waves below me, every particle of water and every bubble in the foam standing out in my perfect vision.

With his hair plastered to his head in the rain, his clothes slick and heavy, Edward came to stand beside me. "You've never been to the beach," he said, dipping into my thoughts without warning.

I shook my head, unable to tear myself away from the the endless expanse of sea.

The rain pounded down on me, ruining my hair and drenching my clothes, but I didn't care.

"I hoped–" I cut myself off. He already knew what I wanted to say any way.

"You wish it had been a human experience," he finished for me.

I nodded, turning away from the surf. "It's not the same," I said.

He agreed, "It's not," and then, after a beat, he turned and continued for the house.

With one last look at the storm-tossed waves, I followed him.

* * *

The house was modest– a small, gray Victorian cottage overlooking the ocean– with a porch and a bay window. Edward and I entered through the front door, both of us sopping wet, and took a look around. In the front living room, all of our suitcases were lined up, waiting for us. I stared at them, feeling homesick already, as Edward moved across the room to the phone. I stayed where I was, looking around the room and listening to the sound of droplets of water falling from my hair and clothes and sloshing against the floor, as Edward called Carlisle and Esme.

"We're here," he was saying. After a beat he glanced at me, saying. "Yes, everything's fine... I will... I know... Yes... Good night." And he hung up.

He then turned to me and we faced each other. The room was silent around us– save for the storm outside– and the tension built. I remembered his words to me, telling me to just face my memories and get over it, and then my attacking him. It felt strange that we were the two who were here first– alone– in a secluded house in the middle of nowhere.

Edward cleared his throat a little and then looked down at the luggage on the floor, saying, "The bags to the right are yours." Glancing back to me he continued, "You'll probably want to change and everything."

I paused, looking at the bags. Looking back to him, I said, "Why are you being nice to me?"

He expected the question– it had been rolling around in my mind all day– but he didn't look any less surprised by it when it came out.

"After everything you... Why are you being so nice to me _now_?" I said, when I didn't get a response from him, allowing the anger to twist my words– making them so malicious that I didn't even recognize my voice as my own.

Edward shook his head, not meeting my eyes. He walked over to the luggage and picked up my four bags– tucking two under his arms and holding two in his hands. Looking up to me, he asked, "I can bring these up to whichever room you choose–"

He was cut off as I snapped forward, grabbed one of the valises under his arm, and threw it backwords. It sailed behind us, hit the far wall, made a crack in it, and fell to the floor, clothes spilling out all around it. He stared at the clothes, shocked, and then looked to me. I was too angry to care that my clothes were the ones strewn on the wooden floor, possibly getting dirty. I was too busy remembering his words to me– _I'm sick of suffering with you. And since Carlisle insists we adopt you into our lives, I'd rather not deal with your bad memories on top of your vain princess complex_– and cross-examining it with his behavior now.

Sighing in resignation, Edward put my remaining bags back down and said, "You're cooperating."

"What?" I said. I didn't understand.

"I'm being nice to you because you're cooperating," he explained, looking humanly tired. "It might have taken you nearly killing an innocent person, but you've come around and listened to reason. At least somewhat, anyway."

I stared at him for a moment, wondering how someone could be so obtusely and heinously selfish.

He was being nice to me now because I was doing what they wanted me to do. Not because he felt remorse for being so rude to me from the beginning. Not because he realized the error of his ways and knew he ought to give me a chance. Not even because I was a fellow human being– or, as it were, vampire. But because I was giving into _submission_. Finally.

Without a word to him, I spun on my heel and went to my fallen suitcase. I quickly threw my clothes back into it, snapped it shut, and then retrieved the rest of my bags from where they were waiting at Edward's feet. He tried to argue his point against information gleened from my thoughts, but I didn't say a word to him as I neatly arranged my bags under my arm. It wasn't until I was ready to go upstairs that I stopped just in front of him– so close that I could count each one of his eyelashes.

"I don't think you have any right to be throwing around the word selfish, Miss Hale," he said, picking the word right out of my brain.

"And I don't believe you have any right to use words against me that I've not yet spoken, Mr. Cullen," I replied. "Or whoever you really are."

He set his jaw at this, looking down at me with anger flaring behind his golden eyes. He was beautiful, I acknowledged, but he didn't faze me. Not anymore. Now he was average. If not awful, then average.

Shaking his head, he said, "You don't know anything."

"No," I replied. "You're the one who doesn't know anything. Despite what you'd like to believe."

And without another word I moved around him, went up the stairs, and picked out my new room– which had a bay window and a view of the ocean.

* * *

Edward and I fell into a sort of routine. He spent his days playing the piano, or listening to the radio, or teaching himself Latin in the living room, and I spent my time perfecting my new vampire beauty or entertaining myself. When night fell, he would escort me out to hunt, but we would never share a word or glance. We'd return and go our separate ways– I'd bathe and get ready for the day and he'd go back to his piano– both of us returning to our own sides of the house.

Esme and Carlisle called frequently– mostly out of fear that Edward and I would throttle one another if they didn't. They spoke to Edward and they spoke to me, but we both told them the same thing. _Everything's fine. _Fine, fine, fine. They seemed suspicious, wanting to know if we were getting along, or if we were hunting enough. We both reassured them that we were getting along fine and that we were hunting every night. Everything was fine, fine, fine. And they got off the phone each time, reminding us that they would be joining us in just a few days, and to hold the fort down until then.

There wasn't much to hold down though. The house was so isolated from any other home, and just far enough from the nearest town, that we didn't cross paths with any human activity. In fact, we were both pretty bored– especially since we were ignoring one another. Edward, however, did have his Latin and his piano and his music. I spent my time playing with my clothes and hair, and it wasn't distracting me like it had in Rochester. There were only so many outfits you could put together– only so many hours you could fill with thoughts on fashion and appearance. So, after only four days in Maine, Royce entered my thoughts once more.

I saw his face, clear as day– clearer than I had remembered or imagined it since that night leaving Vera's. But it wasn't his face, drunk and malicious and possessed of something that must have always been lying dormant in him; it was the sweet, charming Royce I had known from the start. It was the man who had written me poems and sent me flowers, who bought me pretty things and took me to nice places, who made me feel the most beautiful, the most wanted, the most loved– in a life where I already had all those things. It wasn't the animal face thrusting over me, eyes half-mast with drunkenness, mouth opening and closing while he worked and groaned, the skin of his face red and sweaty. The face I saw was clean and sweet, smooth and smiling. It was Royce teasing me, making me laugh, looking at me with piercing blue eyes that made chills race my spine. It was a neat swoop of golden hair arched over his forehead, a face made up of aristocratic angles and handsome structure. It was the most beautiful face I was sure I had ever seen– the face I had been sure I was going to spend the rest of my life with. The face of my prince charming.

A ball of steel the size of a grapefruit lodged itself into my chest then. I tried to breathe, but I didn't even need to, so the attempt was futile. I was strangled all the same.

For the briefest of moments, I missed Royce. I missed the man he used to be– the man I thought him to be– I missed the life we were supposed to have. Sitting in the bay window, a fleeting thought struck me: I had brought this on myself. Royce was not a monster, Royce was sweet and wonderful, I had made him do this.

As soon as the thought flitted into my mind, I swung it away.

No. I wouldn't think like that. I wouldn't think about Royce at all.

Determined, I stood up, threw my bedroom door open and hurried down to the parlor, where Edward was reading a book.

He must have known why I was there, but he didn't say anything, just looked up and waited for me to speak when I entered the room.

Suddenly, I spoke, saying: "I was wondering if you knew French."

He cocked a single eyebrow at me.

_Please, _I thought. _I need a distraction._

"I do," he said, lowering his book to his lap.

"I only learned a little bit in school," I explained, trying to keep my voice steady, trying to keep thoughts of Royce at bay. "I always wanted to speak like a Parisien though."

He softened just slightly, watching me carefully.

"Will you teach me?"

After a moment he put his book on a side table, stood up, and asked, "Vous êtes prêtes?"

"Er," I replied. "Oui?"

He smirked at me– a genuine smile– and said, "All right. Clearly we have some work to do."

* * *

I quickly learned that Edward was everything I had thought him to be and more. He was immature and selfish and petulant and smug and, all together, annoying. He got under my skin and drove me crazy like no one person ever had before. And I knew he felt the same. But bickering with him over French conjugations and music– he could talk my ear off about Mozart and Chopin, while I waxed love-struck over Rudy Vallee and Bing Crosby– and it distracted me enough that I almost appreciated Edward. Regardless, we came to an understanding. A truce. We could dislike each other and disagree, but we were going to be civil– he was going to help me and I was going to try to bring as much hell to his life as possible.

It was the second week of July when Esme and Carlisle joined us in Maine. The day was overcast and windy, and Edward had pulled his Delage out to give it a nice cleaning. I followed him outside and perched myself on the front steps to watch and annoy him, because it was either that or sit inside in boredom.

"Why do you clean it if no one even sees it?" I asked him, watching in disgust as he all but caressed the car with wax and a rag.

"Why do you get all fussed up if no one sees _you_?" he countered.

I rolled my eyes and flicked a pebble off the steps with my index finger.

We sat in silence for a moment, and I listened to the roar of the ocean, even though the beach was nowhere in sight. I watched Edward as he waxed the black and silver of the car to shining, his face locked in concentration and care. It was a young face, maybe even younger than me, and I wondered about him. If Esme had cropped up alongside Carlisle and she had her own story, what was Edward's, where did he come from?

"I can hear you," he said, though he did look up from his work. "You forget."

"What's your story?" I asked, as if he hadn't even said anything. "How did you become... this way?"

He was silent for a long time, working away at the car, ignoring my eyes as I watched him, before he finally said, "My parents died from the Spanish influenza and my mother asked Carlisle to save me any way he could. And he did."

"When?"

"Nineteen-eighteen."

This surprised me, and I blurted, "You're old!"

He genuinely smirked at this, though he was focusing on cleaning the windshield of his car. "Yeah," he said. "I'm old."

"You must have been glad though– that he saved you– You didn't want to die."

"I was glad I was alive," he replied after a long beat. "But I wasn't glad to be what I am– I'm not glad for what I've done."

This made me sit up a little straighter. "What have you done? _Did you eat someone?_"

He winced, refusing to stop his cleaning or look at me as he said, "I've killed people, yes."

"Edward–"

"I'm not proud of it, okay?" he said, looking at me briefly. "I ran away from Carlisle and Esme and I– I don't know."

We were silent once again, and I heard a wave crash on the rocks down below, louder than the rest, and a gull cry out from far off.

Finally, I asked, "Why did you come back?"

"It wasn't any kind of life," he replied, swiping gravel from the tires. "It wasn't the life I wanted, alone and miserable."

_It could be worse for you, Rosalie_, was what I heard him finish the sentence with.

"You missed a spot," I countered, pointing to the tiniest streak of oil near the back wheel.

He looked over at flicked his rag over it, cleaning it off.

"Parfait," I said dully.

"That's a good idea," Edward said abruptly. "Why don't you conjugate some verbs?"

I never wanted to practice my French when Edward wanted to, only when it was on my terms.

"Parler," he prompted.

"Parle, parles, parlent, parlons, parlez," I replied.

He shook his head, "Your pronunciation needs work."

"Your personality needs work," I countered. "You missed a spot," I said again, even though he hadn't.

"Where?"

"Right there," I replied, pointing to a phantom mark.

"What are you talking about?" he demanded, running around the car in circles, looking for a spot that didn't exist.

I was laughing at him when the sound of tires on gravel cut through my thoughts, and before I knew it Carlisle and Esme were pulling up the drive in Carlisle's modest gray car.

"Edward! Rosalie!" Esme said when she got out of the car, and she hurried over to pull me into a hug. "Was that laughter I just heard?" she asked, eyeing me with this pleased look in her eyes that I wasn't sure I liked.

"Yes," Edward said as he hugged her next. "Rosalie's been enjoying herself immensely. Torturing me."

I rolled my eyes. "_Who_ has been drilling French verbs into _whose_ brain?"

"Only because you asked."

"Only to get you to stop playing that awful tripe you call music on that _thing_ in the parlor," I countered.

He scoffed. "You wouldn't know music if you tripped over it."

"Oh, right, says the boy who thinks Grandmother music is _good_."

Carlisle and Esme shared a glance– a glance that showed pleasure and satisfaction– and it didn't go unnoticed by me. They were pleased that Edward and I were bickering, they thought we had passed from hatred to rivalry– that this was just a covering up of our blossoming romance– and that we would soon sail smoothly into love and passion. I looked at Edward then, as he began helping Carlisle unload the car, oblivious to what had just passed between our surrogate parents. He was handsome, absolutely, but he was immature and so very annoying. He would love me, maybe, but I could never love him. He was no Royce King–

This made me stop in my tracks, startled.

No. He certainly was no Royce.


	6. Revolution

**Chapter Six**

**Revolution**

**July 13, 1934 – August 18, 1934**

* * *

There were things I missed about being human– things I took for granted before, and never even stopped to think about missing. Like eating– even being appetized by the smell of food. Waking up with an empty, growling stomach and satisfying myself with bacon and toast and sweet, creamy coffee. I missed Cooky's dinners and her cakes, Vera's rock hard chocolate chip cookies, soda. I had been so careful about what I ate as a human, never wanting to endanger my perfect figure, and now I wished I could be hungry– humanly hungry– just once more. And tired! Sometimes I just wished I could be tired. I missed the feeling of sinking into bed, burying my face into down pillows and slipping into the sweetest sleep, to dream of the pretty life I wanted, and escape everything of the outside world.

But what had I ever had to escape from when I was human? Petty arguments with my family or Vera? The difficulty of choosing between one dress or another? The horror of not getting everything _exactly_ as I wanted it? What I wouldn't give as a vampire to sleep– to have that temporary escape of unconsciousness. Or the relief of tears, of being able to sob for hours on end, until I was spent and tired and born anew, ready to fight and take anything on and get my way.

Instead, these things were replaced. Sleep was replaced with perpetual energy– the ability to live forever without even sitting down or resting in any way. Human hunger was swapped for dominating, burning thirst, a mind-bending desire for blood, death underneath my fingers, someone's life-force pulsing between my teeth, lapping my tongue, ecstasy. And tears, crying, were replaced with a relentless pressure in my chest, that lessened and worsened with the days, but never truly went away.

Sometimes it was this that frustrated me the most about losing my humanity, and I asked Carlisle about it one day in mid-July, when I was tired of watching Esme knit like a human and Edward fiddle with the back of a broken radio.

"Carlisle, why can't we cry?" I asked.

My question was met with surprised silence, where everybody looked at me, and then to our patriarch for his answer.

I was suddenly nervous, and I continued, asking, "Or is it just me?"

"No," Carlisle replied quickly from where he was reading by lamplight. "None of us can cry."

"Why not?" I asked.

The dusky periwinkle light of early morning was starting to show through the lace curtains in the parlor, lightening up the room, infusing the orange lamp light with purple. We had returned from hunting several hours before, and I had spent most of that time bathing, fixing my hair, getting dressed, then lying on my daybed, wishing I could sleep, wishing I could eat or cry or feel something other than this itching restlessness.

"Well, Rosalie, you see–"

"Don't talk to her as if she were a child, Carlisle," Edward cut in. "She's already annoyed."

And I was– not at Carlisle, necessarily, but his treating me as if I was a toddling brat did not make matters any better.

When Carlisle spoke again, his voice was clear and his words succinct: "Humans are made up, primarily of water; vampires are made up of their venom."

"So–"

"So all things water-based in human beings, are replaced with venom," Carlisle continued. "Blood, saliva, semen–"

"Carlisle!" Esme scolded him.

He remembered himself, but I was too naive to realize.

"It wipes out tears and sweat, urine, bile– all together."

I knew this. I hadn't had to use the bathroom since changing. Hadn't had my monthly 'condition' either. This made me wonder, and a terrible fear clutched at all of my body, and I placed both of my palms over my abdomen, which now hosted a phantom ache. I knew enough to arm my imagination and let it run wild, but not enough to know the truth. I hunched over and managed to make it to a seat, where I clutched the arm with one hand, the other hand still on my stomach.

"Rosalie?" Esme intoned, getting up and kneeling in front of me. "What's wrong?"

"She thinks she's carrying Royce King's unborn child."

I was so startled by Edward voicing my horror-stricken thoughts, that I couldn't even chew out a remark to put him in his place.

"Oh, Rosalie," Esme said, taking my hand from my stomach, lacing our fingers together. And something told me her eyes would be filled with tears if we _could_ cry. "No, my darling girl, no."

I found my voice, and shook my head, whispering, "How do you know? He– You–"

She shook her head too, saying, "We– We can't have children." She squeezed my hand. "Vampires can't."

The idea of men and romance and any kind of physical act with a man made me sick and frightened and so anxious I could spit fire, but children– I had always wanted children, a little baby all my own. And now they were saying– now I couldn't– they were telling me– "What?"

"Rosalie."

I saw Henry, the phantom Lindbergh baby, like the golden children I would never have, and I felt hatred, anger, rage like I had never known it.

"Rosalie."

He had taken away my love, my virginity, my human life, and now my ability to have children with it– my happily ever after. When would Royce stop doing his damage? When would he leave me be?

"Rosalie."

I was up and out of the house before any of them could stop me, running, running, sailing, beating my way down the mountain. I pushed myself faster and faster, until my own velocity sent me careening down a ravine, landing half in a creek, cushioned by the rocks that littered the creek bed.

I knew Edward would be along to fetch me momentarily– like the guardian brother that was anything but welcome– so I took the moment to think, uninterrupted.

No children. No beautiful babies of my own to cradle and croon over. No purity. No worth.

"I'll kill him," I said, before I even thought it, and I knew it was true. I had all the time in the world to kill Royce, and I was going to do it. I was going to kill them all.

* * *

I tried hard to avoid Edward. I might have been able to hide my initial intentions from Carlisle and Esme, but I knew I couldn't hide it from Edward and his little _trick_. So I spent my days away from him, keeping my thoughts pinned on clothes or hairstyles. I started reading more, mostly magazines and the newspaper– not the _Rochester Democrat and Chronicle_ or the _Courier,_ they wouldn't let me read those yet– some novels. Esme suggested _Pride and Prejudice_ and _Wuthering Heights_, but I couldn't swallow anything romantic, so I stuck to miserable Dickens–_Oliver Twist_,_ David Copperfield_. Carlisle gave me lessons to continue my French, taught me advanced geography and royal genealogy. Esme taught me how to knit and sew– something Cooky had never had to teach me before. And so I kept myself occupied. Royce slipped in though, and even while I was conjugating verbs and threading needles with perfect precision, he was in the back of my thoughts, and the only way I could endure it was if I imagined killing him– if I pictured putting him and all of his friends through as much agony and horror as they had put me through, and then ending their lives like they might as well have ended mine.

And sometimes Edward would be in the room when these malicious thoughts would break in while I was reading– while I was imagining Royce's head under Dickens' guillotine– and he would look over at me, trying to figure me out, trying to get me to talk about what was going through my mind. I would never meet his eyes though, only try to get back to the task at hand. There would be plenty of time for murder and planning later. When, I wasn't sure.

Eventually though, he approached me on the subject, when Esme and Carlisle were out and couldn't hear our conversation.

"I know what you're planning," he said from the doorway of my bedroom. I was sitting at the desk Carlisle had bought for me, trying to translate _Les Miserables_ from its original French, when he spoke. Knowing I had been caught, I turned in my chair and looked askance at him. "You're going to kill Royce and his friends."

I let out a breath through my noise, half impatience, half submission.

"So?" I replied, placing my pencil down on my open book and standing to face him.

"'_So_?'" he echoed. "Rosalie, you can't take justice into your own hands like that!"

Folding my arms across my chest, I retorted, "Why not? It's not like anyone else is going to do it."

"It's not your responsibility," he reminded me, and for once his voice wasn't completely arrogant and insolent, it was resigned at that point. He was only reminding me of my place.

I stared at him, waiting for him to give me a real argument– waiting for him to give me something substantial that might actually change my mind. Not that anything could have.

Sighing, he shook his head. "Are you going to try and stop me then?" I demanded, _my_ voice sounding impetuous and insolent now. "Are you going to run and tattle to Esme and Carlisle?"

"No," he replied, after only a beat.

This surprised me, and I considered him with raised eyebrows.

Finally, he walked into the room, touching the frame of my bed, walking over to my vanity table and moving several magazines with distaste, before stopping and leaning on my vanity chair. "How do you plan on killing them exactly?" he asked. "Are you going to bite them?"

I grimaced and flinched away from this. "Absolutely not!" I spat.

"Then how?" he wondered, his voice still free of accusation or criticism. It took me off guard."Have you ever killed anyone before?" he smirked and gave a little laugh as he said this.

Rolling my eyes, I scoffed, "Obviously not!"

"Then how were you planning on doing it?"

I was silent for a long moment. I hadn't thought that far ahead. I had been too busy keeping the truth from my thoughts, and from Edward's knowledge. A whole lot of good that did me, clearly.

"Look, if you're going to kill Royce and his friends," he said, sounding strangely reasonable and calm, "and you don't want to be overcome with the need to bite them or feed off of them, you're going to have to get used to being around humans."

I nodded. I didn't ask him how he was so aware of my wishes as far as their deaths were concerned. He could read my thoughts. He knew I didn't want any part of them _in_ me again.

"Once you can be around people and handle yourself, we can figure out how to kill them–"

"Wait," I cut him off. "_We_? What do you mean 'we?"

Edward considered me for a beat, and then said, "You can kill them on your own– the honors are all yours– but I'm not going to have you do something stupid and ruin everything for all of us."

I scowled at him. I should have known this was about protecting himself.

"I'll help you get used to humans, all right?" he said, his voice a little flintier as I thought of his intentions. "Then, when you're ready, you can kill them."

He walked across the room and was about to leave when he stopped in the doorframe and turned to me, saying, "And, Rosalie? It's probably best we don't tell Esme and Carlisle right away. We should probably wait a little while."

I winced at the idea of actually revealing my plan to the two. Carlisle and Esme were so good and noble– the most genuine and kind people I had ever met– and I couldn't bear to think about what opinion they would have of me once they realized I meant to kill Royce and his friends. But even their disapproval couldn't stop me, I knew this much as well.

"We'll tell them when we have to," Edward said with finality, and then he turned and left me alone once more.

* * *

We started off easy, and we lied to Carlisle and Esme the whole while.

At first, we would go out after our nightly hunts, when I wasn't thirsty and the sky was still dark. The house was situated up high on a mountain, way above the ocean. The nearest town was miles away, a little fishing village on the water. So, we trekked down the mountain in the early hours of the morning, when it was still dark, and stayed in the woods, high up, close enough to smell the human blood and see the houses, but far enough that it didn't overwhelm me. It enticed me, teased me, lured me, but my thirst was mostly satiated and my desire to kill Royce and not want him overpowered any desire for faint human blood. Sometimes I did find myself walking closer to the village, further down the mountain. All Edward did was say my name and it would stop me in my tracks. I got better and better, until the far-away human smell didn't faze me at all, that was almost a week before the end of July.

Carlisle and Esme asked where we were going, what we were up to, and we told them Edward was tutoring me with my French, chaperoning me while I explored the woods, anything. It didn't matter anyway. They didn't suspect us. They were so pleased we were spending time together– so sure we were falling in love– that they never guessed the truth that summer.

So, we continued.

At the beginning of August, we started going out before I had hunted, when my throat burned with newborn thirst. We would still be far away enough that the scent wasn't overpowering, but it still burned my throat, even from a distance. There were a good many times when I would think to run to the village and devour, and Edward would have to grab me and hold me back until I came to my senses.

"How do you do it?" I asked him once, after I had roughly pulled myself out of his arms, disgusted that he had had to restrain me once more. "How do you restrain yourself when you've _tasted_ human blood?"

He shook his head as he swiped at his shirt, as if I had left traces of myself behind on him. "I regret every drop of it I ever drank," he said. "That's how I do it."

I understood this– knew I would regret it and feel utterly disgusted with myself if I ever tasted human blood– but the burning in my throat and the unbearable desire to kill and rip and gorge made it baffling that someone could fight it always.

"You'll get there," he reminded me. "Patience is a virtue."

"I'm not virtuous," I spat back.

He chuckled at this, smirking and saying, "No kidding."

I narrowed my eyes at him and then rolled them, looking back at the little village below us.

After a moment of silence a thought struck me, and I thought about asking Edward, but then I knew I didn't have to, he had heard me.

"They're not looking anymore," he said, his voice quiet and almost sympathetic in the dark. "The reward is still up but the police have stopped searching."

I sucked in a harsh breath, and then nearly choked on the stench of human blood it brought into me. I stopped breathing for a moment in order to recover.

"What about my parents?" I finally asked.

He didn't say anything.

I looked at him. "Edward, tell me."

"Everyone thinks you're dead, Rosalie," he said, his voice so faint I was almost sure he felt sorry for me. "They think you're dead. They've given up."

This hit me hard, and I fell to the forest floor, sat down hard and pulled my skirt down over my knees. I wanted to cry but, of course, I couldn't.

I thought of my father, heartbroken, my mother, lost. My throat tightened and I stopped my breathing once more.

"What about Vera?" I whispered, after we had sat in silence for a long time.

I looked up at him and he was looking at the village, avoiding my eyes. "She's angry," he told me. "She pushed for them to keep looking– accused Royce of not doing enough– but her husband reigned her in, everyone told her to be reasonable."

"Oh, Vere," I whispered, and my heart practically burst as I sat paralyzed by pain.

"She can't admit you're dead," he continued. "She won't face it."

I looked at the horizon, at the dark landline, and wished I could be with Vera again. I wished I could laugh with her and gossip, argue about silly things, cry with her, apologize for every awful thing I had ever done, be a better friend to my _only_ friend, my sister. At the very least, I wished I could write her, tell her I wasn't really dead, that I wanted her to be happy even if I couldn't be, that I didn't want her to wonder.

"She'll be okay," Edward said.

"They'll all forget about me," I whispered. "They'll all move on and forget me all together."

Edward shook his head. "No they won't. Don't be stupid."

I couldn't bear for them to forget me. They would go on with their lives, they would live and they would continue, and that was bad enough, but the fact that they might go on and forget I ever existed, that I would cease to matter to them, broke me into a thousand pieces.

"They won't forget you," Edward pressed. "You've left enough of an impression that they won't be able to."

It wasn't necessarily a compliment, I knew, but it was the nicest thing Edward had ever said to me, and I was grateful for it nonetheless.


End file.
